


Swans Lost In The Stream Of Time

by DracoWillHearAboutThis



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Arthur's POV, But they obviously come back, Canon Compliant, Flashbacks to other timelines, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Memory Loss, Modern Era, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Still trigger warning for death themes, University, loss of magic, non-linear storytelling, which might be confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-11-21 16:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoWillHearAboutThis/pseuds/DracoWillHearAboutThis
Summary: It wasn’t that Arthur hadn’t prepared himself for this very moment.No, he had spent years and years imagining it, had spent countless nights in his bed, locked away from his father and sister, picturing it in his mind. He had hundreds of scenarios laid out, including colourful, charming dialogues to go with them.Still, he could do nothing but stare dumbly as he watched Merlin step into the train compartment, two plastic cups of coffee in his hands, his hip nudging the sliding door shut after himself and almost spilling the hot drink in the process.





	1. Confluence

**Author's Note:**

> And here I am, apparently with my second Merlin fic! I've had this idea ghosting around in my head for a while, and now I've finally sat down to put it in words. Or at least, I started to. This is the first chapter of what will (hopefully) not become too long of a multi-chapter fic. I estimate maybe 3-4 chapters in total. The first chapter is PG-rated, but later content makes the higher rating necessary.
> 
> The storytelling is non-linear and includes a total of three timelines, if you count the canon timeline. Mostly, the written scenes will take place in the timeline of Arthur's return and the timeline after, though, with the canon timeline only appearing in references. I hope it's not too confusing. It is a bit of an experiment. Don't fret if you don't quite understand all that has transpired in the past in the first chapter. You're not meant to. 
> 
> The idea for this story came to me through the realisation that, for obvious reasons, it was always Merlin waiting for Arthur, or Arthur forgetting about Merlin in every fic out there. It made me wonder what would happen if their positions were reversed. 
> 
> I hope you will enjoy this, and that this first chapter will make you curious for more!
> 
> Explanation of the chapter title: A confluence is the meeting of two or more bodies of water. It usually refers to the point where two streams flow together, merging into a single stream.

 

It wasn’t that Arthur hadn’t prepared himself for this very moment.

No, he had spent years and years imagining it, had spent countless nights in his bed, locked away from his father and sister, picturing it in his mind. He had hundreds of scenarios laid out, including colourful, charming dialogues to go with them.

Still, he could do nothing but stare dumbly as he watched Merlin step into the train compartment, two plastic cups of coffee in his hands, his hip nudging the sliding door shut after himself and almost spilling the hot drink in the process.

Merlin was saying something, and there were words in response, laughter, but all Arthur could hear was white noise and the rapid beating of his heart. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, he reflected. A part of him had always known that the University of Camelot would be where he would find him. Because if not, the joke fate was playing on him would have been even more intricate and cruel than it already was - and that was saying something, looking back on Arthur’s life.

Or various lives, for that matter.

Lance elbowed him in the ribs, and Arthur forced himself to snap out of it, to tear his eyes away from Merlin’s face, who he realised had turned to look at him questioningly, and face his best friend. 

Lance was observing him with obvious concern, brown eyes flitting back and forth before landing on Arthur’s.

“You all right, Arthur?” he muttered. “You spaced out there.”

“Yeah,” Arthur hastened to respond, but his voice cracked on the single word. Lance’s frown deepened. “Yeah, sorry. Lost in thought.” 

He turned to glance back at the other two occupants of their compartment, who were both staring at him in puzzlement, and tried hard not to flush. 

He should have  _ known _ . He and Lance had been late to catch the train this morning, mostly because Arthur’s sister Morgan had taken ages to get ready - which was an irony, because hadn’t it been  _ her _ that had insisted on them taking the stupid train up to university in the first place? Their father had offered them a private car to take them, but Morgan had been insistent that they’d never get the full feel of university life if they behaved like rich, spoiled kids and didn’t mingle. And silently, Arthur had agreed - after all, how was he ever going to find Merlin if he kept sticking with Lance and Morgan? So they’d braved the two-hour train ride from London, albeit making it through the doors of the departing train on the dot. 

Naturally, all the compartments had already been conquered by student groups, and Morgan had swiftly abandoned them for the one her friend Moreen and her boyfriend Leon had won for them. Arthur had felt sulky, but very disinclined to follow - he liked Leon a lot, but he really couldn’t stand Moreen’s company. Every time he was around her, memories of a different life resurfaced, one where Morgan’s name had been Morgana and she had been his sworn enemy, fanned on by her then half-sister Morgause. 

The girls, naturally, didn’t remember the events that had transpired all these centuries ago. For them, the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table was just that - a story, with no importance to their lives at all. Arthur was the only one who remembered. And he would never forget. 

So he and Lance had made their way through the narrow corridors of the train until they had found a compartment that had only been occupied by one person - a girl, and before Arthur had gotten a good look at her, Lance had already poked his head through the door and asked if they could join her. She had agreed with an easy smile, and only then had it hit him that he  _ knew _ her, the same way he had known Lance before he had even met him. 

“I’m Gwen,” she had introduced herself. “Gwen Smith.”

“Lance Dulac,” Lance had answered. “And this is Arthur Pendrall.”

_ Well, _ Arthur had thought, as he’d smiled through the introductions,  _ it’s a good thing I’m not hung up on Guinevere anymore, or this would be awkward.  _

He should have realised, though, that Merlin wouldn’t be far behind. Merlin and Guinevere had been good friends at Camelot. It made sense that they’d befriend each other in this life. 

In the present, the two of them were still staring at him, a strange mix between curious and concerned, and Arthur could feel the heat climbing to his face. Oh, bugger. All those years he'd waited for this, and now he was making a complete  _ arse _ of himself. Way to go, Arthur. 

He made himself sit a little straighter and met Merlin’s blue eyes. His stomach jumped. They were exactly the shade they had been in his dreams. 

“Where are my manners?” he chuckled, hoping dearly that it didn’t sound too forced. “Hi, my name is Arthur Pendrall. You must be a friend of Gwen’s?”

Merlin cracked a smile. 

“Yes, Gwen and I met on Open Campus in May and have been in touch ever since. It’s been good, knowing someone before starting school. My name’s Merlin. Merlin Emrys.”

Next to him, Arthur could hear Lance gasp, ever so softly. 

***

“You don’t have to believe me,” Arthur whispered, clinging onto his bottle of beer for dear life. 

Lance was very silent, and he his brown eyes were very bright in the moonlight as he stared at Arthur. Inside, the dull noise of the party was filtering through the closed terrace doors of their London mansion, and Arthur hoped desperately that Morgan wouldn’t come to investigate where they had disappeared to. 

The party had been her idea - Father being out for the weekend, her friends from university being in town - and she had insisted that Arthur and Lance should participate. 

“I’m worried about you, Baby Bro,” she had told him sternly, an arm slung around his shoulders. “You never go out. All you do is study and hang out with Lance. You’ve never even had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Whatever floats your boat, I don’t care. But you need to relax and socialise.”

Alas, the party, and Morgan had gone all out. There had been stunning girls (and the occasional bloke) from Camelot Faculty of Law draping themselves over Arthur left and right, calling him adorable and frankly creeping him out, and alcohol had been shoved into his hands from all directions. It had been all Arthur could do to flee onto the terrace after an hour or so, and that was where Lance had found him. 

“Not your scene, huh?” he had smiled knowingly as he'd joined him, bumping his shoulder.

“Morgan just doesn’t understand,” Arthur'd ground out, his tone one of violent frustration. He'd felt his eyes prickling, and cursed the alcohol for getting to him. 

“Doesn’t understand what?” Lance had asked gently.

“I don’t want to fool around with just  _ anyone _ ,” Arthur had burst out, unable to hold his loosened tongue. “There’s only one person for me. I haven’t met him yet, but until I do, I’m not going to waste my time messing around with anyone else.”

Lance had blinked at him, clearly confused. 

“Mate…”

It had been clear that Lance had no idea what he was talking about. So Arthur had launched into an explanation. He'd told Lance about his dreams. He’d told him about his past life as a prince and a king, and the sorcerer at his side, who had dedicated his whole life to protecting him without ever even telling Arthur. He'd told Lance about dying in Merlin’s arms, and about waking up in them again, centuries later. He'd told him about losing Merlin, and about waking up once more in this new life, without him but with all the memories coming back to him night for night, year for year. 

And now Lance was looking at him, thunder-struck, and Arthur regretted opening his big, fat mouth. He didn’t think he could stand Lance ridiculing him over this. Lance had been his rock in this new life, a parallel between past and present, something to cling to. Sure, they'd had their differences in their past lives, but Arthur had long moved past that. Losing Merlin had shifted his focus. 

When Lance finally spoke, his voice was serious and devoid of anger, and Arthur was so relieved that the tears that burned behind his eyelids threatened to spill. 

“I believe you, Arthur,” he said. “I don’t know why. It sounds… incredible, and by all means, I should write you off as drunk and be done with it, but… I believe you.”

Arthur gulped, desperately blinking back the moisture in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“So, this Merlin…” Lance said slowly, watching him. “You’re in love with him?” Arthur nodded. “But,” Lance frowned. “If you’re King Arthur, shouldn’t you be in love with Guinevere?”

“I was,” Arthur sighed. “It’s complicated, but I think, in a way, Guinevere and I were never really meant to be. Not really. The bond she shared with Lancelot was stronger… just as the bond between me and Merlin was. I was just too pig-headed to see it, in my first life, and when it mattered most in my second.”

“Okay,” Lance muttered. “So, let me get this straight. You’re the… what? Reincarnation of King Arthur? And you’re looking for your Merlin?”

“I promised I would find him in our next life,” Arthur murmured. “And I will.”

“Is it for sure that he came back?” Lance asked hesitantly. “I mean, is everyone reborn like you?”

“Well,” Arthur snorted. “Judging by the pattern of my last life and this, I’d say the chances are pretty good.”

“This life?” Lance asked, stunned. “Excuse me, who else is an Arthurian character in our life?” When Arthur only looked at him pointedly, Lance choked on thin air. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “I’m Lancelot?!”

“Finally caught on, huh?” Arthur grinned. “Took you long enough.”

“But,” Lance spluttered. “I’d never steal your girl, Arthur! I don’t want to be the jerk that betrayed you centuries ago!”

“Hey,” Arthur said, a little more gently. “Okay, I was pretty chafed back then, but it wasn’t exactly your fault. Morgana brought you back from the dead and made you her soulless puppet. She forced you to seduce Guinevere. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Lance definitely looked paler than he had before their conversation had taken that particular route, but he let the subject drop, for now, and Arthur was grateful.

“When you say Morgana,” he muttered, glancing back over his shoulder and into the apartment, where the party was still going at full speed. “you mean…?”

“Morgan,” Arthur sighed. “Yes. But she doesn’t remember, and as long as she doesn’t, she’s harmless. I don’t like that she’s hanging out with Moreen - who used to be Morgause - but I’ve seen no signs of her reverting back to who she used to be. Also, Leon is a good influence on her. He used to be a knight at my court. One of the most loyal there ever was.”

“I see,” Lance nodded, biting his lip. He glanced at Arthur again. “So… what are you going to do now?”

“Well,” Arthur shrugged, idly fumbling with the neck of his bottle. “There’s not much I can do, really. Apart from waiting until I see Merlin again, and not let him slip through my fingers when I do. Well, and keep an eye on Morgan, of course.”

“Is that why you work so hard to get into Camelot?” Lance asked in realisation. “Because you think Merlin will be there?”

“It’s where I met him the first time,” Arthur shrugged.

There was a moment of silence, and then Lance bumped his shoulder.

“I’ll be there with you,” he promised with a smile. “I’ll help you find your lost sorcerer. After all, I almost lost you your wife once. What better way to make up for that then help you find your soulmate now?”

Arthur chuckled.

“You don’t have anything to make up for, Lance,” he shook his head. “After all, I kept you and Guinevere apart as well.”

“Then just accept my help as your best friend,” Lance shrugged, grinning. “Or maybe as your loyal knight? My lord?”

“Shut it,” Arthur snapped, his face burning. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

Lance laughed, bumping his shoulder again.

“We’ll find him,” Lance told him, in a tone of determination. “Next year at uni, we’ll find him.”

“I hope you’re right,” Arthur sighed, staring up into the night sky.

***

The ride to Camelot was the most excruciating hours Arthur had ever sat through. In all the scenarios of reunion Arthur had pictured in his head, he had always been witty and charming and had drawn Merlin in effortlessly. 

None of that was happening now, though. Instead, Arthur was sitting amongst them, stiff and silent, like a cat had gotten to his tongue, watching as Lance chatted with Gwen and Merlin, occasionally flashing him a look of concern. 

It was very clear that Merlin had no idea at all who he was. After the initial awkwardness, his eyes had stopped lingering on Arthur, and it made Arthur feel like his guts had been hollowed out and served for dinner. 

He was making a mess of this.  _ Again. _ The same way he had in his last life, and the life before. Why could he never do anything right when it came to Merlin? 

He should have known that things would go to hell as soon as he actually met him. They always did, and he had only himself to blame.

***

Arthur flung his jacket into the direction of Merlin’s sofa, missing by a mile, but not having it in him to care. He stormed into the apartment, his blood rushing in his ears, pulse racing from the anger he had tried to press down on all evening. He barely heard Merlin closing the door behind himself. 

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed. 

Arthur didn’t answer. He didn’t want to talk. There was nothing Merlin could say that would make him feel better about what he had seen tonight. 

“All right,” Merlin muttered. “So I take it taking you to see them was a bad idea.” Arthur whirled around, glaring at him. “It’s just-” Merlin rushed to add, an edge of desperation in his voice. “I thought you might feel better, seeing everyone again. Get rid of this... sense of being out of place in this modern world. I thought, maybe, once you were around everyone again-”

“Oh,” Arthur interrupted him, his tone venomous. “So you really thought seeing my wife married to Lancelot and carrying his child would make me feel better?!”

Merlin flinched, looking away. 

“You thought that seeing the way everyone moved on without me, not even remembering my name, would make me feel like I belong?!” Arthur shouted. “Tell me, Merlin, how would you feel if everyone you loved had forgotten who you are?!”

“You forget, Arthur,” Merlin said, very softly, “that I’ve been alive all these years you’ve been dead. I know exactly what it feels like.”

“So what exactly possessed you to inflict such an evening on me?!” Arthur yelled. 

“I wanted you to see that life goes on!” Merlin called, and his eyes were shimmering with tears. “It might not be the same life you had in Camelot, but that doesn’t mean-”

“All the people I love have forgotten about me!” Arthur cut him off. “What kind of life can I have here?!”

Merlin gulped. It took a moment before he spoke again, and it was obvious that it took him some effort.

“Not everyone has forgotten you,” Merlin reminded him, an edge to his voice. “I’m right here, ain’t I?”

“Right,” Arthur scoffed. “And you’re the reason I’m in this mess, if I recall correctly.” Merlin looked like he had been slapped, but Arthur didn’t stop, too frustrated to feel merciful. “If you had just let things be, I’d have been reborn along with everyone else.” Arthur pointed out, his voice tight. “All you had to do was let me go. But no, instead, you sent me to Avalon for all these centuries.”

“I had no idea that the concept of reincarnation even existed,” Merlin protested, and a tear escaped his eyelids, running down his cheek. He wiped at it, apparently embarrassed. “I thought this was the only way, Arthur! If I had known-”

“If you hadn’t meddled,” Arthur pushed on, as if Merlin hadn’t spoken. “I’d have walked the earth all these years, along with Guinevere and everyone else!”

“But you wouldn’t know who you are,” Merlin shot back, his voice breaking. “Just like everyone else, you’d have just started with a clean slate.”

“Maybe that’s what I’d have wanted!” Arthur shouted. “Maybe I don’t  _ want _ to remember!”

Merlin closed his eyes. Another tear ran down his cheek. 

“Admit it,” Arthur snapped. “You just thought about what  _ you _ wanted, and not about what  _ I _ might want. I never asked for any of this, Merlin!”

Merlin was shaking now, trembling from head to foot. He let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Arthur looked away. He couldn’t stand to keep his gaze on Merlin when he was that broken, that vulnerable. It did things to him, evoked emotions Arthur did not want to feel right now. Arthur  _ wanted _ to be angry. 

So he pushed past Merlin, picked up his jacket again and left the apartment. He threw the door shut behind him and almost ran down the stairs, only holding in when he felt the ground vibrate under his feet. 

He looked back up again, realising that the groundwork of the building was indeed trembling and that it was probably originating from Merlin’s apartment. It wouldn’t be the first time Merlin had lost control of his magic in a state of high emotion since Arthur’s return. 

Arthur shook his head and kept walking, putting more space between himself and Merlin.

***

Arthur had barely pushed through the door of the dormitory he was sharing with Lance on Camelot’s campus when he was already throwing himself onto one of the beds, groaning in despair and burrowing his face into the pillow. 

“Fuck!” he yelled. 

“Calm down, Arthur,” Lance muttered, closing the door behind them. 

“I’m such an idiot!” Arthur called. “Did you  _ see _ me out there? I barely even got two words out in his presence!”

“Well,” Lance spoke slowly, apparently choosing his words carefully. “I admit, it wasn’t exactly ideal. But I’m sure he just thinks you’re shy. And you might be able to sell it as some ‘love at first sight’ thing, if you play your cards right.”

“I think we just established that I don’t  _ know _ any card games, Lance!” Arthur snapped. “I just throw my hand on the table and hand over my money.”

“Now, now,” Lance sighed, and the mattress dipped a little under Lance’s weight as he joined him on the bed. “Nothing is lost yet. We said we’d meet Gwen and Merlin for lunch tomorrow, right? You’ll get another chance then. So just relax.”

“How can you be so fucking  _ composed _ ?!” Arthur demanded, sitting up to glare at Lance. “You do realise that Gwen is Guinevere, right?”

Lance turned red at those words, and Arthur shouldn’t have felt any satisfaction at that, but he did. 

“I suspected,” Lance muttered. “But I didn’t let myself ponder over the question. You were freaking out over Merlin, and I couldn’t afford to lose it, too.”

“ _ Of course _ I’m freaking out!” Arthur bit out. “What if he hates me?”

“I thought he’s your soulmate?” Lance smiled. “I doubt he’ll hate you.”

“I’m serious!” Arthur rolled his eyes. “I can be a right prat!”

“I am aware, Arthur,” Lance chuckled. “I’ve known you since primary school.”

“But I can’t be a prat around Merlin!” Arthur pointed out, a lump in his throat. “I can’t risk him turning his back on me. This is too important! So what if I say anything wrong? What if I-”

“Hey,” Lance interrupted him, face concerned and serious now. “Hey, breathe. You  _ know _ Merlin. This is not a stranger you’ve never met, Arthur. You do have memories of interacting with him.”

“Yes,” Arthur muttered, petulantly. “But that doesn’t exactly make it-”

“Do you want to tell me that you’ve never been a jerk around him?” Lance challenged, raising an eyebrow. “In all your time as a prince or a king?”

“Of course I was,” Arthur said automatically. “More times than I can count. I was a prat from the moment I met him.”

“And still,” Lance smiled, “he was your friend, and he served you loyally till the end. And he waited centuries for your return. In spite of your prattish tendencies.”

Arthur gulped, unsure what to say to that.

“Just be yourself,” Lance shrugged. “It will happen. I’m sure it will.”

“I’m so afraid to mess it up,” Arthur admitted. 

“I’ll help you,” Lance promised, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I made you a promise, remember? I’ll be your wingman. Merlin will be head over heels for you in no time, you will see.”

“Maybe I should have listened to Morgan all these years,” Arthur grumbled. “I have absolutely  _ no idea _ what I’m doing when it comes to dating. I’ve never been with anyone before. Or at least, not in this life. I should have gotten some practice.”

“But that’s not you,” Lance smiled sadly, squeezing his shoulder. “Having dalliances that don’t mean anything. We established that.”

“Still,” Arthur muttered. “Merlin will think I’m a bumbling idiot.”

“He won’t,” Lance ensured him. “Just be honest. Or, well, as honest as you can be. No declarations of eternal love before the second date.”

“Haha,” Arthur said dryly.

“Show him that you are interested,” Lance advised. “Sincerely interested. That you want to get to know him. Don’t try to play games or seem aloof. Don’t hold back because you are scared.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Arthur breathed. 

“It isn’t,” Lance chuckled. “It never is. But you have the advantage that you know you’re meant to be with him. That’s more than anyone else can say, really.”

“Technically, I’ve never been with him,” Arthur pointed out. “Because I’ve always been too stupid to notice his feelings, or my own.”

“Well,” Lance shrugged. “Not this time.” He squeezed his shoulder, and Arthur nodded. 

***

As promised, Gwen and Merlin met them for lunch the next day. They did not, though, come alone. Arthur should have realised that Merlin, even in his new life, would be nothing short of the social butterfly he had been in his first one, making friends left and right without even trying, his boyish charm easily capturing the hearts of the people around him. And so they were joined at their table in The Rising Sun by none other than Gwaine, Percival (who went by the more modern name Percy now) and a girl named Freya who Arthur did not recognize from his dreams. 

In such a big round, it was even harder to speak to Merlin directly, though it was easier to fall into the conversation in general, so with some pointed looks from Lance, he tried to relax and let himself act normal. And Gwaine’s presence was soothing in a way that Arthur hadn’t anticipated, his easy jokes and loud manner setting the mood of the group and making it easy to find the pace. 

Merlin was sitting across from him, Gwen on his left and Freya on his right, all bright eyes, soft laugh and easy words, and Arthur couldn’t drag his eyes away from him. He was breathtaking, and all Arthur wanted was to pull him into his arms and never let go. He hadn’t thought it was possible to feel a longing that strong.

So when Merlin got to his feet to get himself a coffee from the counter, Lance caught his eyes, and Arthur forced himself to follow him. Merlin was softly humming to himself as he stood in line, but he stopped and looked up in surprise when Arthur joined him. 

“Hey,” he smiled, raising an eyebrow. “In need for some caffeine, too?”

“Something like that,” Arthur lied. 

Merlin hummed. There was a moment of silence, and Arthur racked his brain for anything to say, anything at all.  _ This is Merlin, _ he reminded himself.  _ The man who called you a dollophead twice a day. Nothing to be afraid of. _

“So,” Merlin spoke up before Arthur could find any words. “It appears you  _ can _ talk.”

“What?” Arthur asked, rather stupidly.

Merlin chuckled and elaborated: “Yesterday on the train. You barely said a word. It made me wonder.”

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed, flushing. “Sorry about that. I guess I was just nervous. I’m not usually like that, I promise. My sister always says I have a mouth the size of Loch Ness, and an ego to match its’ legendary monster. You usually have to shut me up once I start talking.”

“Is that so,” Merlin laughed, looking intrigued. “And what had you so shell-shocked yesterday? Gwen’s beauty?”

Arthur flushed even darker. It was clear that Merlin was joking, and it would be easy to just laugh it off, but he remembered Lance’s advice about being honest and making his interest clear. He cleared his throat awkwardly, before meeting Merlin’s eyes again.

“No,” he muttered. “Not Gwen.” And he forced himself to hold Merlin’s gaze, watching the other boy’s features transform first into a frown, before his eyes widened, and then he flushed himself, biting his lip.

“Oh,” he breathed. 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur gulped. “I don’t mean to - shit, that was too forward, wasn’t it? It’s just - I’d like to get to know you, Merlin. If you want. Maybe we could go for a drink or something sometime? With Gwen and Lance, if you want, or… just us.”

_ What am I doing?!, _ Arthur screamed inwardly. He was making a mess of this. A huge mess, and now Merlin would think that he was a creep and oh god -

But Merlin was still staring at him, wide-eyed and red-faced, and then, a slow smile spread over his face. 

“All right,” he nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that. Going for a drink with you, I mean. Just us.”

Arthur let out a shaky, incredulous breath, and a grin spread over his face.

“Really?” he checked, barely able to believe his luck. 

“Really,” Merlin confirmed, chuckling. “There’s something about you, Arthur Pendrall. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m intrigued.” Arthur’s heart jumped almost out of his chest at the way his own words resonated in Merlin, so many centuries lying between them. “Also,” Merlin added, grinning, “that fumbling come-on was kind of adorable.”

Arthur glared at him half-heartedly, and Merlin laughed. Then, the barista cleared his throat, and they realised it was their turn to order. Merlin ordered an espresso and Arthur a latte, and he paid for both of their drinks, making Merlin smile. 

“I’ll be looking forward to that date,” Merlin told him, under his breath, as they rejoined the others. “Try not to be too tongue-tied, though. I like to hear you talk.”

And with that, he slid back into his seat, looking for all the world like nothing unusual had happened, leaving Arthur as a complete and utter nervous (though, admittedly, very happy) wreck. 

In his pocket, his mobile vibrated. Arthur took it out and checked his message under the table. It was from Lance, who had his own mobile resting on his thigh in the seat next to him.

_ How’d it go?? _

Arthur smiled and only sent two emojis in response - one smiley face, and one thumb up. 

 


	2. Taking Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers! Welcome to the second chapter of this fic! I'm glad you enjoyed the beginning of this story, and I hope this update will be just as entertaining, even if it will be much more angsty in parts. I have to specifically warn you about the memory of a major character death scene in this chapter. If you are triggered by scenes like these, please beware.

It was only two nights later that Arthur found himself at the local pub, this time without the puffer of their friends distracting Merlin from Arthur’s nerves. If Merlin took note of his fiddling, though, he did not comment on it, and for that, Arthur was grateful. Instead, they fell into an easy chatter over their pints and shared plate of chips, slowly getting acquainted.

Or rather getting _reacquainted_ , Arthur amended in his own mind, because he _knew_ that person in front of him like the back of his own hand. It became clear every time Merlin’s eyes crinkled in amusement, or his eyes flashed in mischief, or in the way he slumped slightly sideways in his seat, one elbow resting on the table’s surface and his palm pressing against his throat, just under his chin, as he focused his complete attention on him. He could almost see the neckerchief back in place, even though this Merlin wore a lowly cut V-neck T-shirt, exposing enough of his pale chest and tempting collarbones for Arthur’s eyes to keep straying.

It made it easier, though, falling back into patterns that he had never had the chance to enact for himself, not in this life, but that seemed to be sewn into his very existence - such as light, non-malicious banter and casual, unforced conversations that might have seemed superficial but were full of meaning to those leading them. It almost felt like they were back in Camelot, though Arthur knew very well he had never been there before, not really. It was such a hard concept to grasp, even for himself, at times.

He was also glad to find out that this new life had treated Merlin better than his first. While still growing up in a secluded village on the countryside, he had been raised by both parents, and judging from the way he spoke of his hometown, he had obviously been well loved. And while Arthur ached to think about how much of Merlin’s life he had missed, he felt a bone-deep relief to hear that Merlin had been _happy_. At least the second time around, his family had been unable to screw him over.

It was a weird feeling - of course, he wished Merlin would remember, the same way he did, but on the other hand, he was glad to see this new, more carefree version of him. As hard as it made it to approach him, Arthur also felt like Merlin deserved this brand of youthfulness, after everything he had lived and suffered through. It was enough if he carried the burden, for a change. Merlin had done it long enough.

That particular thought did not quelch Arthur’s longing for him, though. On the contrary. Being with him again, talking to him and having his full attention focused on him for such a prolonged time really tested Arthur’s restraint. His fingers kept twitching, trying to reach out for Merlin’s hand across the table, and when Merlin leaned a little closer to snatch away the last of the chips, Arthur almost caught his face to pull him into a kiss.

But he held back, reminding himself that Merlin barely knew him. It wouldn’t do to move too fast and creep him out. Or at least, that’s what he told himself right up until he’d walked him home, and they’d stopped in front of the hall of residence Merlin’s dormitory was located in. Merlin was smiling at him, deep blue eyes locking onto his, and Arthur’s brain was wiped completely and utterly blank. And then, before he knew it, he was leaning in, catching Merlin’s lips with his own.

It was like coming alive after a millennium of darkness. Like taking his first breath after having been underwater for an eternity. If he didn’t know for a fact that Merlin’s magic was gone, he would have blamed it for the little shocks running up and down his skin, the currents of energy he could feel all through his body, but he was well aware that it had nothing to do with any kind of supernatural force that might or might not be still lingering in Merlin's soul.

This was something else entirely. This was what had connected them, through all these centuries, and what Arthur had been too blind to see in his first life, and for most of his second.

Merlin’s lips were soft, so very soft, and they tasted of the ale they’d had at the pub. He also smelled like the pub, and like the greasy food they’d had, but underneath, Arthur could smell spicy shampoo and some sort of scent he must have applied before coming to see him and _that_ was new, different from Camelot, and for some reason, it made Arthur all the more desperate.

He deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue against Merlin’s lips, and Merlin let out a startled sound, half gasp, half moan. Hands found Arthur’s waist, clutching on for dear life, not pushing away, _thank god,_ and then Merlin had parted his lips to meet him, and their tongues were sliding together, brushing in gentle, intricate strokes, and Arthur was melting against Merlin. It was too much, and not enough, all at once. One hand found Merlin’s hair, and he knotted his fingers into the soft, dark strands, holding on and bringing Merlin impossibly closer, willing him not to stop.

Arthur didn’t know how long they stood there, just kissing, but when they finally came up for air, both panting heavily and staring at each other with wide eyes, he noticed that he was trembling, and so was Merlin. Merlin’s arms were still wrapped around his waist and he was fisting his T-shirt in desperation, clearly just as affected as Arthur, and for that, Arthur wanted to kiss him all over again.

“Woah,” Merlin brought out, at last, his voice shaky and rough. “I… wow.”

“Yeah,” Arthur nodded, resting his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes. “My thoughts exactly.”

“How?” Merlin breathed, sounding confused. “I’ve just met you. Kissing you shouldn’t feel like…”

“Like?” Arthur prompted, opening his eyes again to smile at him. Merlin, though, didn’t answer. He looked _scared_ , Arthur realised, for the first time since Arthur had met him in this life, and it made him unknot his fingers from the black curls to run them soothingly along his skull. “Like coming home?” he suggested, watching the emotion flicker in his eyes, fear mingling with amazement. “Because that’s what it feels like to me.”

Merlin gulped, and nodded, with some hesitation. Then, he muttered, almost to himself: “This isn’t normal.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Arthur admitted, brushing his nose against Merlin's, unable to stop touching him. “I haven’t had all that much experience with dates and first kisses, to be quite honest.”

Merlin froze, gaping at him incredulously.

“You’re joking, right?” he checked.

“Nope,” Arthur muttered, voting for honesty.

“But,” Merlin spluttered. “You’re gorgeous and rich and - _how?!_ ” Arthur opened his mouth, though he was unsure how he would have responded, but Merlin was not done. “Even if you knew early on that you were gay and you were stuck in the closet - there must have been _someone?!_ Right?!  _Arthur?!_ ”

“I haven’t talked you off this, have I?” Arthur asked, scowling at him in concern. “Is this a problem for you?”

“ _Is this a problem, he asks_ ” Merlin repeated, his voice high, and Arthur had the distinct impression that he was no longer talking to him but to the world at large. “Are you even real?!”

“Um,” Arthur said, unsure what was happening, but then, Merlin’s lips were on his again, and Arthur found himself quite unable to remember what they had been talking about. Only when Merlin decided to let him breathe again and his brain was slowly starting to wake from its paralysis did he zoom back in on their conversation.

“For the record,” Merlin breathed, eyes fierce. “That was the best kiss I've had in my entire life, and the fact that it was your first makes the whole thing even more surreal. It does _not_ , though, pose a problem in any shape or form, you complete dork. You are drop-dead handsome, funny, intriguing, and apparently, all mine to mess up - I do not see any down points here. So stop worrying your perky virgin butt and kiss me again, you fool.”

Arthur had flushed considerably at Merlin’s little speech, but the other boy was now grinning at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes and Arthur was lost. There was no way he could resist Merlin like this - his blood was singing, calling for him to answer to Merlin’s taunts, to meet him head on and prove to him that the messing up would be mutual, thank you very much.

So that’s what he did.

When he finally made it back to his dormitory, it was already past midnight, but Lance was still waiting up for him, phone in hand.

“So,” Lance said, taking one good look at him and grinning. “I dare say it went well?”

Arthur chuckled, biting his lower lip (which was still tingling from being so thoroughly kissed) and closed the door behind himself.

“God,” Lance laughed, shaking his head. “Look at you, Arthur! I’ve never seen you like that before! Mind you, it’s a good look on you!”

“What?” Arthur rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair to tame it. “Well-snogged?”

“No,” Lance said, placatingly. “ _Happy._ ”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile at him as he sat down on his own bed, catching Lance’s eyes.

“I really am,” he admitted. “You can’t imagine how it feels. Being with him again. Or not _again_ , I guess, but-”

“I know,” Lance nodded. His phone chimed in his hand, and he threw a look at it and smirked. “And it seems like you’re not the only one who’s completely head over heels. Gwen’s been texting me and apparently, Merlin has been a mess ever since he came home. You did quite a number on him, mate.”

Arthur laughed, lying back on his bed. “Good,” he said, with feeling.

“Must have been some kiss,” Lance commented, sounding intrigued. “Gwen says Merlin won’t shut up about it.”

“Mhmmm” Arthur hummed, looking up at the ceiling. “It was perfect.” Then, there was a lump in his throat as he whispered: “Much better than the last time I kissed him.”

***

“Let me get you to Excalibur. Just let me-”

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, shaking his head. “I’m not strong enough to-”

“Shut up!” Arthur snapped, and there were tears blurring his vision. “You’re not allowed to leave me! Do you hear me?! That was not part of the deal!”

Merlin was silent for a moment, and he closed his eyes, and Arthur shook his head, holding him closer to his chest.

“Merlin, no!” he begged, and his voice sounded close to a sob. “Open your bloody eyes!"

Eyelids fluttered open, but Merlin's gaze remained half-lidded as he looked up at Arthur.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “For… everything. You… right… You were… I shouldn’t’ve…”

With a start, Arthur realised that Merlin was trying to apologise for sending Arthur to Avalon. For making him come back to him, and to this world, with his memories intact. A new wave of pain, all-encompassing and numbing, consumed Arthur, and he couldn’t stop the tears that slid down his face this time, nor did he try. He disentangled his blood-smeared hand from Merlin’s and cupped his cheek tenderly.

“Don’t you dare apologise,” he scolded, as fiercely as he could while full-on crying. “I’m glad you did it. I wouldn’t change a thing. If it means I remember you and everything you did for me for the rest of my life, and every life that comes after, I would do it all again.”

There were now tears in Merlin’s eyes, too, and his breathing was shallow.

“Ar...thur…” he breathed. “I… you’ve always been… the most important… I just wanted…”

And suddenly, at that moment, with Merlin here, in his arms, he realised that all these things that he had thought had mattered didn’t really matter at all. Guinevere moving on and forgetting him. His friends not remembering his name. His kingdom being gone. What importance did all of this have, when he had had Merlin with him, who had waited for him for more than a millennium, and who had loved him more than anyone could have ever even begun to attempt at any point of time?

Merlin, who was now dying in his arms, the way Arthur had died in his, and there was nothing Arthur could do to prevent it.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” Arthur breathed, at last, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Merlin’s forehead. “I was too self-involved to stop and think of you. It’s always been that way with me when it concerned you. I don’t know why. Maybe I was afraid of what I would discover if I stopped to think about what you really mean to me, but…” he held in a moment, taking a shaky breath and pressing another kiss to Merlin’s cheekbone. Merlin’s breathing was growing weaker by the second, and Arthur knew he was running out of time. “From the moment you entered my life, Merlin, you’ve been essential to it. Essential to my existence. I can’t _be_ without you. You can’t _leave_ me.”

“I’m… sorry…” Merlin wheezed, his eyes falling closed once more. A stray tear ran down his cheek. Arthur wiped it away, leaving a track of blood on his skin.

“So am I,” Arthur gasped. “Merlin -” And then, before he could stop himself, he leaned in to capture the other man’s lips in a kiss.

It was chaste by all standards. Merlin had no strength to properly reciprocate, and Arthur was trembling violently, but he gave it his best, pouring everything he couldn’t say, didn’t know how to put into words into that soft brush of lips. When he pulled away, Merlin’s eyes were barely open, looking at him.

“I’ll find you again,” Arthur promised. “In our next life. I’ll find you, and I’ll make it all up to you. I won’t be such a cabbage head, I promise you.”

“I won’t… rem… ember…” Merlin breathed. “My… ma... gic…”

“I don’t care,” Arthur shook his head. “I’ll make you remember, and if it’s the last thing I do. I’m yours, Merlin. Always.”

And with that, he brushed their lips together once more, desperate, trying to imprint himself on Merlin and to cling to every second he could have with him.

He felt the last breath Merlin took against his lips, and then he held him in his arms, crying without inhibitions, feeling like a part of himself had died as well.

***

“Arthur?” Lance asked, snapping Arthur from the daze of his memories. “Shit, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Sort of,” Arthur whispered, running a shaky palm over his face. “I was just remembering. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Lance shook his head, looking at him in obvious concern. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, dating someone you have memories of losing. It’s bound to mess with your head.”

Arthur hummed, then shrugged, steeling himself against the memories of their past life.

“I’m not going to lose him again,” he said, convincing himself as much as Lance. “This time will be different. It will be good. _So_ good. I’ll make sure of that.”

Lance smiled at him.

“Well,” he amended. “You made for an amazing start earlier, that’s for sure. The poor bloke doesn’t know what hit him. I almost feel sorry for him. At least you know you’re dealing with your soulmate. He’s just thrown into the water and is expected to swim.”

“ _You_ added the term ‘soulmate’ to the story,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “I never said that’s what we were. I just said that we’d been bound together by fate in the past and that I loved him and swore to find him again in this life.”

“Which is the definition of soulmate if I ever heard one,” Lance laughed. “Embrace it, Pendrall. There are worse things.”

Arthur chuckled, thinking that, indeed, there were.

***

The next two weeks were the most surreal and fantastic ones of Arthur’s life. Between orientations and first lessons, he spent all his free time with Merlin, whether it was a free evening at the pub or just a quick snog in a quiet corner of the campus between seminars, and it felt absolutely brilliant.

Merlin’s company was simply addicting. The more he was around him, the less he wanted to be apart. He loved Merlin’s laugh, his sharp sense of humour and his at times dopey manner that Arthur found absolutely endearing. He loved soft, dark curls and his the way he smelled, and he loved touching him in every way possible: their fingers entwined under the lunch table, a hand resting on his knee, on the small of his back, on his neck as he kissed him… He couldn’t keep his hands off Merlin, and Lance was starting to make fun of him for it.

(Though never maliciously. Lance was too good of a mate. He would never try to ruin Arthur’s high like that, especially knowing how much it really meant.)

After their first full week of classes, though, their friends convinced them to actually show their faces around them for a change. They all went out to the pub together for a night of celebration, in the same constellation they had met up in for that first lunch when Arthur had asked Merlin out, and Gwaine gave them an earful about “Bros Before Homos”, which he apparently found a brilliant adaptation of the original alliteration. It was fun, though, and Merlin sat next to Arthur on the bench, their thighs touching, and Arthur couldn’t stop stealing glances at him all through the evening. Because that was _his_ person, and he just couldn’t fathom how, after all this time, he had managed to get this lucky.

That was, until he slipped out for the loo, and returned to find Merlin deep in discussion with Freya and Gwaine. Gwen and Lance had gone up to the bar, apparently to get a second round for everyone, though they had obviously forgotten about it halfway, as Arthur could spot them deep in conversation, no drinks in hand.

Meanwhile, Freya had a fierce look on her face and was talking in an urgent tone, and Arthur only caught what she was saying when he stepped a little closer.

“I’m telling you,” Freya insisted. “The way he looks at you. It’s not normal, Merlin.”

“So he’s a little intense,” Merlin shrugged, jaw tense. Defensive, Arthur realised. “That’s no crime, Freya.”

“ _‘Intense’_ is one word for it,” Freya rolled her eyes. “It’s creepy, Merlin, that’s what it is. You’ve known him for two weeks, and he looks at you like you’re his whole world. Like he’d die if you left. Tell me you see how insane that is?”

“ _You_ are insane,” Merlin muttered, his voice bitter.

“Did you watch that Netflix show?” Freya continued. “About that bloke who isolated that girl from all her friends and then-”

“Stop it, Freya!” Merlin groaned. “God, are you listening to yourself?! Arthur isn’t dangerous!”

“Say something, Gwaine!” Freya demanded angrily. “Make him listen!”

“Well,” Gwaine said good-naturedly, smirking over the rim of his pint. “Can’t blame the bloke for losing his mind over Merlin and turning a little stalkerish. He’s a special snowflake.”

“Ughhh,” Freya groaned. “I’m only trying to look out for you here! I’m telling you, it’s not normal! Not in such a short time!”

“You don’t know him, Freya,” Merlin argued, an edge to his voice. “And you don’t know shit about what’s going on between him and me. So can you kindly keep your nose out of it?”

“I’m concerned, you berk!” Freya snapped, and Arthur took a few careful steps backwards, having heard enough. He made his way over to the bar - far away from where Lance and Gwen were lost in conversation - and ordered himself a whiskey, which he drowned in one go. Then, he ordered another pint, nursing it as he mulled over what he had just heard.

Some part of him had known that it had gone way too smoothly, he mused. Things never went that well for him, especially not when Merlin was concerned. His past lives had proven that.

He had also known that his feelings, naturally, were running far too deep to be plausible for someone who'd just met the person they were dating. But he had thought he'd been careful, and Merlin had never complained… Obviously, he'd been wrong.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and let out a strangled laugh. The barkeeper looked at him a little strangely but didn’t say anything.

It was typical, Arthur thought, maybe even hilarious, that their roles would reverse like this. Because hadn’t _he_ thrown the words _obsessive_ and _bloody clingy_ at Merlin’s head after he’d come back to life for the first time? He had been so damn self-involved, so naive back then, even though he had been older in age in that life than he was in his current. It was maddening to think back on it.

***

“Arthur!”

Arthur’s steps slowed at the sound of Merlin’s frantic voice, and then, he rolled his eyes and continued his pace. Not that it stopped Merlin from catching up with him.

“What are you doing?” Merlin demanded, bringing him to a sudden hold with a death grip on his shoulder, eyes wide and angry. “I leave for half an hour to get groceries and you disappear? Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?!”

“I thought you were immortal,” Arthur shot back. “Shouldn’t that be impossible?”

Merlin glared back at him, unimpressed.

“Just because I can’t die of natural causes, doesn’t mean I can’t be killed. And you, _my lord_ , would be the one to manage it, mind you. Now, I’ll ask again. What are you doing, leaving without a word?!”

“I just needed to get out and catch a breath!” Arthur ranted, shaking his hand off and rounding in on him. “Can you blame me?! Ever since I came back, I’ve been locked up in that tiny apartment of yours! You won’t ever let me out of your sight unless it’s to get us food or whatever it is you do when you leave! I just needed to get out!”

“You can’t just up and go!” Merlin shouted, his eyes wide and bright. “You don’t know a thing about this world, Arthur!”

“I can take care of myself!” Arthur argued, affronted. “Enough to take a stroll around the lake by myself without your assistance, thank you very much.”

And with that, he pushed past Merlin, roughly brushing the other man’s shoulder with his to make his frustration clear.

At first, Merlin did not follow. Then, he asked, in a voice that sounded brittle, and very unlike Merlin: “Have you even considered what it would feel like to me, to come home and find you gone? When I _just_ got you back?!”

Arthur held in, but only for a moment. He gulped down those strange emotions he wasn’t ready to deal with - shame and guilt and everything in between - for he was Merlin’s damned King, even if he had no kingdom to rule anymore, and he owed the other man no explanations, no apologies.

So what Arthur ended up saying was: “Have you always been so obsessive, Merlin? Stop being so bloody clingy, will you? It’s grating on my nerves.”

And with that, he left Merlin to his own devices, not looking back to observe the effect his words had on his friend.

***

Arthur downed more of his pint, feeling sick with himself, both with the past that haunted him and with the present that he was royally messing up.

“Obsessive,” he muttered to himself, taking another sip. Well, _of course_ Merlin had been obsessive. He’d lived  _centuries_ on his own, waiting for Arthur to return, and then he finally had. It had done things to his head. You wouldn’t ever be quite right again, after losing someone so important to you. Arthur wished he had stopped to try and _understand._

But since he hadn’t, how could he expect Merlin and his friends to do so, especially seeing that they had no bloody clue what was the matter with him? Why he was looking at Merlin like he'd waited years to meet him. ( _Because he bloody_ had.)

He had no way to explain his own obsession with Merlin, and he was not sure he even deserved Merlin to understand. Not with the way he’d treated him.

He had barely finished that thought when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist, and a pointy chin rested on his shoulder, digging into the flesh.

“Hey,” Merlin said softly, squeezing his torso. “I wondered if you’d flushed yourself down the loo.”

“Ah,” Arthur muttered, blinking. “Sorry, I-” He realised he had no excuse for not joining them. He tensed, and Merlin turned his face to press a lingering kiss to Arthur’s neck.

“You heard,” Merlin murmured, not a question, but a statement. “I’m sorry, Arthur. You weren’t meant to.”

Arthur didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.

“Freya can be a right git when she wants to be,” Merlin sighed. “She’s also just broken up with her long-term boyfriend before moving here, so she’s highly cynical when it comes to romance. Don’t mind anything she says. She’d call Prince Charming a creep.”

Arthur did not say it, but to Freya, there was not much difference between Arthur, who was creepily worshipping his boyfriend of two weeks, or a prince who searched an entire kingdom for a girl he'd spent one evening with.

“And anyway,” Merlin continued, “it’s not important what she thinks. It’s important what _I_ think. And I think you are lovely and sweet, and I sort of adore that you can’t seem to hide your feelings for the life of you. I don’t care what other people say. It’s nice to see how invested you are.”

“Even though it’s too early?” Arthur checked, his voice small.

“Who’s to say what’s too early?” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Is Gwen and Lance texting for weeks and not asking each other out normal pacing? If it is, I’d rather go with our speed, to be honest. Much more satisfying.”

Arthur cracked a smile at that, finally feeling the remainders of his uneasiness dissipate, and squirmed in Merlin’s arms to face him. He stared into his eyes for a long moment, losing himself in those familiar blue orbs before resting their foreheads together.

“I do adore you, you know,” he whispered. “To an unhealthy amount.”

Merlin smiled and rubbed their noses together.

“That feeling is completely mutual, Pendrall,” he whispered, before catching his lips in a gentle kiss.

And that, Arthur thought, was really all that mattered. No matter what mistakes he’d made in the past, or what Merlin’s friends thought of him in the present, as long this time around, the depth of his devotion reached Merlin, everything was going to be alright.


	3. Moving Downstream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, but I brought some smut with me to make up for it, so I hope it evens out :) Hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> There will be one or two more chapters after this. It depends on how a couple of things work out, and I never quite know until I start writing :) But I wanted you to be forewarned, in case I suddenly turn out the next chapter as the last lol.

After about a month of dating, it was, ironically enough, Lance who initiated for Arthur and Merlin to take the next step in their relationship in terms of physical intimacy.

“So,” Lance announced one evening when Arthur was bent over his homework, pointedly not meeting his friend's eyes as he informed him: “I’ll be staying over at Gwaine’s Saturday night. There’s that movie we’ve been wanting to watch, and we figured it’d be easier if I just crashed over at his place and Merlin stayed with you. Sounds good?”

Arthur froze, forgetting to breathe for a moment. Lance’s tone was completely casual, but Arthur could tell there was more to his friend’s motives than he was letting on. Arthur wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful or utterly mortified. 

He had spent his every free minute with Merlin for the past weeks, and everything had gone swimmingly, though Arthur still sometimes didn’t dare to believe how simply and overwhelmingly  _ happy _ he was most of the time. It was like he’d fallen into an alternate universe because surely bliss like that didn’t happen to him? 

Still, with Arthur rooming with Lance and Merlin sharing with Gwaine, there hadn’t exactly been many opportunities for privacy. Once, they had snuck into Merlin’s dormitory for a heated snog, but then Gwaine had burst in and had quickly cured them of repeating the experience. Gwaine had seemed repentant after, had even offered to work out a sock-on-doorknob-system with Merlin, but Merlin seemed reluctant, and Arthur thought that this might have to do with Arthur’s general inexperience in all things sex. Arthur found it in equal parts endearing and frustrating that Merlin tried taking his time with him, but he was no blushing maiden and he was definitely not going to swoon if Merlin tried to move things along. Or gave Arthur the opportunity to do so, for that matter, but he made even that so very difficult sometimes. Because Arthur was completely aware that Merlin was, if not veteran per se at least more experienced than he was, and he always seemed so completely self-assured, making Arthur feel like a blubbering mess. It made Arthur lose his nerve every bloody time an opportunity arose, and he hated himself for it a little bit because it was so unlike him. 

But now, Lance and Gwaine were serving him the ideal circumstances on a silver platter, packaged as subtly as possible, and Arthur would have been stupid not to jump on it. 

“Sounds great,” Arthur finally ground out, his voice cracking. “When will you be back?”

“Not before Sunday night, I think,” Lance shrugged. “I promised Gwen to meet her at the library for a study session after lunch, so I’ll spend the afternoon there.” 

_ Study session _ , Arthur thought, barely suppressing a snort, but managing. After all, Lance had not made any crude comments about crashing with Gwaine so he could have the room to finally shag his boyfriend. It was the least he could do to pretend not to notice the eternal drag that was the mating dance Gwen and Lance were doing. 

“Cheers,” Arthur nodded. “I’ll ring Merlin and make plans then.”

“It’s most likely Gwaine will have talked to him already,” Lance said, in an undertone. “Just as a warning.”

Arthur groaned. Gwaine would not have been as considerate as Lance, and sure enough, when he called Merlin a little while later, while Lance was in the shower, Merlin  _ was _ slightly shifty about the issue, though not, as Arthur was relieved to note, unwilling. 

“Yeah, Gwaine dropped a subtle hint,” Merlin said drily, before continuing, his voice more gently: “Is it okay for you? If I sleep over at yours? I love Gwaine but the man is a whore and he doesn’t get to set our pace, so if you don’t want this I can crash at Gwen’s. I know Mithian wouldn’t mind.”

“Are you kidding me?” Arthur ground out, his voice sharp. “I finally get to have you all to myself! Like hell am I going to subject you to a night on Gwen’s cold floor in a sleeping bag!” He heard Merlin chuckle on the other end of the line and relaxed a little. His voice came out much softer when he suggested: “So, how does home date sound to you?”

“Absolutely brilliant,” Merlin admitted. “Do I get greasy takeout and hanging out in joggers? Because that’s my favourite kind of home date.”

“Done,” Arthur promised. “Bring your rattiest joggers and be here on Saturday night. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Will do,” Merlin said, and maybe it was Arthur’s imagination, but he thought his voice sounded a little breathy as Merlin added: “I can’t wait.”

Arthur was on edge all through the rest of the week, and when Saturday finally rolled around, he felt like he was going to die of anticipation. Arthur was well acquainted with sexual tension; had had a lot of practice dealing with the frustration of unfulfilled desires not only during his relationship with Merlin but throughout his whole teenage life. But this felt like something  _ more _ , something bigger than an itch finally being scratched. It was as if his whole existence - his life in Camelot, his second life, and now his current - all of them burned down to this moment when he would at last cross that line of physical intimacy with Merlin, something that he had been longing to do for so long. 

Merlin looked soft and approachable in his worn, long-legged grey joggers and his dorky shirt that proclaimed to  _ ‘not let the Muggles get you down’ _ (which made Arthur laugh, because  _ of course _ , Merlin would be into  _ Harry Potter _ , of all things - if only he  _ knew _ ) and he radiated heat from where he was pressed into Arthur’s side. He was happily munching away on the remainders of their fries, empty containers of burgers and chicken wings spread between them as they pretended to watch a movie where Arthur’s laptop was perched on his desk chair. He had long lost the plot of said movie, though, and was instead busy sneaking glances at every movement Merlin made, fascinated by seemingly simple things like the way his fingers moved or his tongue licked the salt from his lips. 

After Merlin was done eating, Arthur gathered his courage and reached out to place a casual hand on the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. Merlin did not comment on the gesture, but he did throw a sideways look that Arthur did not meet, too embarrassed, afraid he’d pull away if their gazes connected now. He did not move his hand at first, but after a couple of minutes, he tentatively ran his fingers up and down the inseam of Merlin’s joggers, not straying up high, but clearly making Merlin nervous. He saw the other boy gulp out of the corner of his eyes. 

Merlin’s hand came down to find his then, entwining their fingers, and he turned to look at him.

“Hey,” he muttered, and though he was speaking softly, his voice carried over the explosions happening in the movie. “What do you want?” He squeezed his hand gently, making it clear that he was not rejecting Arthur, merely asking for directions.

Arthur took a deep breath, forcing himself to hold Merlin’s gaze. He knew that Merlin might think he wasn’t ready to do this if he didn’t articulate himself properly, and he couldn’t let that happen. It was just that he had no idea  _ what _ it was that he wanted - he just wanted everything,  _ anything _ , with  _ this  _ person. He wanted  _ Merlin _ , and so before he could help himself, he’d blurted out: “You.” And then he shut his mouth, flushing darker than the shade of his shorts, but it was all right because Merlin’s smile was so fond that he’d gladly make a fool of himself to get to see it. 

“I figured as much,” Merlin commented, with a chuckle, but he leaned in to kiss Arthur, and that, Arthur though, that was much more conducive to his motives than all the talking. Merlin’s lips were soft and tasted of fries and ketchup but it was still strangely addictive, and Arthur opened his mouth to lick along the seam of them. Merlin moaned, opening his mouth to meet Arthur’s tongue, just for a moment, but then pulled away. Arthur let out an anguished whine, making Merlin smile again. 

“Lay back,” Merlin ordered gently, sitting up and starting to gather the empty cartons, carelessly throwing them onto the floor. “Against the pillow, Arthur. Get comfortable.”

Arthur didn’t have to be told twice. He let Merlin stop the movie and close his laptop as he moved up on the bed and slumped back against his luxurious pillow - not the standard fare they got from the hall of residence but the one he'd brought from home - waiting for Merlin to turn his attention back to him. When he did, blue eyes took their time roaming over his body, heat and gentleness so prominent that it almost choked Arthur. 

“God, I must have done something good to meet you,” Merlin muttered, almost to himself, and one hand reached out to stroke Arthur’s hair from his forehead, a gesture so tender that Arthur felt it like a caress to his very soul. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are, Pendrall?”

Arthur only made an indistinct sound in response and reached for Merlin, pulling him into another kiss. Merlin let him, this time deepening it immediately, flicking his tongue against Arthur’s in a way that was now familiar but would never get old and was so much more exciting now that Arthur knew they were not going to stop here. That this was just the beginning of something more. 

Arthur’s hands roamed over Merlin’s back, feeling his heat through his shirts, wanting to touch everything at once, frantic with desperate longing, but Merlin took his time, slowing him with gentle kisses and unrelenting caresses, his fingers running through Arthur’s hair in a pace that was both electrifying and frustrating. 

Only when Arthur felt like he would suffocate from the lack of oxygen, breaking the kiss for air, did Merlin budge to kiss down Arthur’s jaw, Arthur’s neck and what he could reach of Arthur’s collarbone, his movements still measured and slow. Arthur was trembling from it, clutching at Merlin’s T-shirt and moaning his name. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Merlin, please…”

“Please, what?” Merlin smiled, coming up from where he had been lightly suckling on the joint of Arthur’s neck and shoulder, his lips shining from his own saliva. 

“God, you’re such a tease!” Arthur groaned. “Will you get on with it already?!”

“Impatient, I see,” Merlin grinned, leaning in again to nose along Arthur’s neck. “You make me want to take all the time in the world when you are like this.”

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed, making the other boy chuckle. His puffed out breath hit Arthur’s overly sensitised skin. He seemed to take pity on Arthur, though, because he sat up and helped him pull his Arsenal jersey over his head. Once they’d dropped the article of clothing somewhere on the floor with the empty cartons of food, Arthur pulled Merlin in for another hungry kiss, and only when the back of his head hit the pillow again did Merlin break away from his lips to move lower, mouthing down his chest and learning the paths that had hitherto been hidden to him. Arthur was reduced to a shivering, panting mess as supple lips searched out the sensitive patches of his inner wrist and elbow, tongue tracing his nipples with intent or fingers teasing along his bare sides. 

When Merlin’s fingers finally ran through the hair on his stomach, finding the waistband of his shorts, Arthur was so hard that the fabric was tented. 

“So,” Merlin said, almost conversationally. “Have you decided on what it is that you want from me tonight?”

Arthur near-sobbed in response. He was  _ this _ close to begging, and he had a distinct impression that Merlin knew. 

“Anything,” Arthur breathed. “ _ Anything _ , Merlin. Anything you want to give me. I just… I  _ need _ you. Please!”

Merlin’s only response to that was a hum, but his eyes were dark, like a stormy sea, and he pulled on Arthur’s remaining garment of clothing without further ado. Arthur raised his hips helpfully, feeling almost giddy with relief, past caring that Merlin was yet to shed any of his clothes himself. 

When Arthur had settled again, now fully nude, Merlin was staring unabashedly, his breathing slightly uneven, and Arthur would have expected to feel self-conscious under his gaze, but he ravelled in it, felt heat in his belly at the obvious proof for how affected Merlin was by his nakedness. 

“Blimey, Arthur…” Merlin breathed, and then Merlin’s lips were on his, and his fingers were on Arthur’s cock, all at once, and Arthur’s brain was shot. It took all Arthur had not to come right then and there like a pubescent boy. Merlin’s fingers felt different from his own, slimmer and slightly longer, and he held Arthur more loosely than Arthur did when he pleasured himself, but it felt so,  _ so  _ much better. He gently stroked up Arthur’s whole length, then down again, squeezing the shaft, and up, rubbing against the sensitive head with his thumb. Arthur gasped into Merlin’s mouth and then, Merlin broke the kiss, much to Arthur’s confusion, only to move down his body. He kissed down his chest, paying special attention to his belly button, and then, he stopped his strokes on Arthur’s shaft and fisted the base of his cock, holding him steady. 

Arthur blinked his eyes open, looking down his body, meeting Merlin’s eyes. The intensity in those blue orbs took Arthur’s breath away. And then, Merlin leaned in and slowly licked over the head of his cock, lips coming down to tease away the foreskin. 

Arthur's mouth fell open around a groan, but he forced himself to keep looking, to keep his eyes open and focused on the image in front of him - on Merlin, bent over him, slowly sucking his cock down those plump, wet lips. Only when Merlin’s lips met his fingers did Arthur allow his eyes to close and his head to fall back so that he could focus only on the sensation of Merlin’s hot mouth on him, and  _ good God _ , this must definitely be fate’s apology for all the pain it had caused him. Because Merlin’s mouth was  _ otherworldly _ in the way it made him feel. The pleasure that curled through his body was numbing in its intensity, and when it took him, Arthur was powerless to even fight against it or utter a word of warning. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what kind of noises he made, but when he came to, Merlin had moved up to lie next to him, the duvet pulled over them, one hand tenderly stroking Arthur’s jaw. 

“Good?” Merlin asked, a cheeky, fond smile on his lips. Arthur laughed, unable to even feel affronted by Merlin’s smugness.

“You could say so,” Arthur breathed, turning his head to fish for a kiss. Merlin complied, smiling against his lips. “Damn, Merlin. Where have you been all my life?”

“Middle of nowhere,” Merlin quipped. “Getting educated to blow your mind, and your cock.”

Arthur shoved him, and Merlin laughed. As he brushed up against Merlin, he realised that Merlin was still straining against his own joggers, and felt excitement bubble up in his chest all over again.

“Your turn,” he breathed.

“Won’t take long,” Merlin muttered. “I’m going to come in three seconds once you touch me. You don’t know what you’re doing to me, Arthur.”

Arthur bit his lip, part pleased and part disappointed. “Well,” he shrugged. “Next time, we’ll have to start taking care of you earlier, then. Not that I didn’t enjoy your sadistic teasing, but -”

“If you think that was me being S, you really are more innocent than I thought,” Merlin interrupted, laughing. 

Arthur scowled, but ignored the interruption, choosing to pretend he hadn’t heard him. “- BUT next time I’d like to get to touch you some more, too. Deal?” 

“Deal,” Merlin breathed, pressing his face into Arthur’s neck and inhaling. “Now get your hand down my pants, Pendrall, before I rut against your hip.”

Arthur did not, out of pure principle, just shove his hands down Merlin’s pants to get him off, as much as he wanted to. Instead, he made him undress and took his time kissing him and running his hands all over his chest until Merlin was cursing and Arthur took pity, closing his fingers around his straining erection. 

Merlin had not been lying. It only took four complete strokes for Merlin’s body to go from trembling to rigid and then Arthur’s hand was coated with sticky fluid, which he used to tease more moans out of Merlin as he kept on touching him through his climax. Only when Merlin was too sensitive to take any more did he push Arthur away and collapse on his back, eyes wide and breathing erratic.

“Fuck,” he breathed, with feeling, making Arthur laugh. 

“Good?” he asked, in an imitation of Merlin’s earlier cheekiness, making Merlin glare at him halfheartedly. 

“Come here, you” Merlin muttered, pulling him into his side and throwing an arm over his shoulder. Arthur rested his head on Merlin’s chest, smiling as the rapid rise-and-fall slowed to something more moderate. He absentmindedly wiped his hand off on the duvet, too comfortable to get up and search for a tissue. 

It was so peaceful, so perfect, that he drifted off to sleep.

***

The first thing Arthur felt was penetrating coldness. He shivered and tried to curl in on himself, but then he realised that he was being held. There were arms around him and a chest against his cheek, rising and falling in rapid breathing, and there was a voice filtering through from far away, though he could not yet understand the words. He tried to reach for it, tried to understand what was being said, and then he realised that he  _ knew _ that voice. 

_ Merlin. _ It was Merlin. 

He tried to call out, tried to let Merlin know he was here, that he could hear him, and that was when the darkness evaporated, and the fog inside his brain retreated. 

He opened his eyes and gasped in a lung full of fresh air.

He was wet all over, he noted, which was no surprise when he realised that he was  _ inside _ the water. Or at least halfway inside. He was immersed to the hips, which, admittedly, wasn’t very deep, considering that he was in some kind of half-upright sitting position, sprawled out against someone else’s chest.

That someone was clutching him tightly, trembling from head to toe, breathing ragged and interlaced with sobs. Only when they spoke, though, voice rough and thin from crying, did Arthur look up to meet their gaze.

“Arthur…”

Merlin’s eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Tears were running down his face, easily recognizable even though he was wet all over, drops of lake water running from his dark locks of hair, mingling with the tears. 

“Merlin,” Arthur croaked. His voice felt strange, like a sword blunt from disuse. “Why are you crying?”

For some reason, Merlin sobbed even harder at that, and Arthur’s brain was too sluggish to catch up with what had happened. Merlin leaned his forehead against Arthur’s, holding him tight.

“You’re back,” he breathed. “You’re finally back.”

“Where have I been?” Arthur enquired, a little sluggish.

Merlin took some time to answer. When he did, his eyes were closed, and he did not look at him.

“You were at Avalon,” Merlin breathed. “After you died, I sent you there. And they finally sent you back to me.”

Faint images came back to Arthur at those words. The battle of Camlann. Mordred running him through with a sword. Merlin’s determination to save him. Dying in Merlin’s arms. 

“How much time has passed?” Arthur asked, frowning. 

Merlin gulped, opening his eyes again. And for a moment, Arthur was struck by how much pain he saw in those familiar, blue orbs. 

“Over a millennium,” Merlin told him. 

The weight of the words did not sink in. All Arthur could do was stare at Merlin’s eyes, and all the pain they held. 

***

When Arthur awoke, he felt warm and cosy and he didn’t want to move. A chest was rising and falling in the rhythm of even breaths and an arm was slung around his waist, making him feel cocooned in the best of ways. 

Merlin smelled delicious in the morning. There was the slight stale aftermath of sex in the air, but underneath that, Arthur could still catch a whiff of his aftershave and shampoo. 

Merlin’s body tensed slightly under his, stretching as carefully as possible, obviously intent not to wake him. Arthur smiled and opened his eyes, sleepily blinking up at Merlin.

Merlin’s hair was a mess, both from sleeping and from Arthur’s fingers running through it, but his face was pleasantly flushed and he looked happy and well-rested, looking down at Arthur fondly.

“Hello there, Sleeping Beauty,” he smiled. “Welcome back among the living.”

The joke stung a little, but Arthur tried not to show it. 

“Hello to you, too,” he said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Sleep well?”

“Perfect,” Merlin emphasised. “We might need to do this again. Soon. Lance and Gwaine will have to become good friends. They’d better work on a list of movies to watch.” Arthur laughed, flopping back down onto Merlin’s chest, letting the other boy pet his hair with tender fingers. “I’m not letting you out of my grasp again, Arthur Pendrall,” Merlin told him conspiratorially. “So you’d better not have any escape plans.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Arthur said, quite sincerely, one finger tracing nonsensical patterns on Merlin’s bare chest, right where his heart would be. 


	4. Waterfalls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers! Back with not the last, but what is probably to be the second to last chapter. I wasn't sure how long this chapter was going to be and if it would be worth posting as a stand-alone, but I figured that I might as well post it separately. In this chapter, more of what happened in their second life will be revealed. I hope you enjoy it!!

Despite the fact that Arthur was the only one in his relationship that actually remembered the two lifetimes of shared tragedies with his other half, he considered himself well-adjusted. Sure, he might have suffered through the occasional quip about hovering (“like a helicopter,” Gwaine had snickered good-naturedly) and Freya was definitely watching him with hawk's eyes (“Ignore her,” Merlin snorted when Arthur pointed this out. “Last week, she tried to convince Gwen that Aladdin was actually a dick and Jasmine would have been better off without him.”), but all in all, things with Merlin were going swimmingly and while the other boy seemed on some level aware that things between them had grown strangely deep in an unusually short time, he did obviously not question it. Arthur was grateful.

And then, of course, Freya had to turn up at their group’s pub night with her visiting baby cousin, and things had gone to hell.

Because of course, Freya’s baby cousin wasn’t just _anyone_ . Arthur hadn’t recognised Freya when he had first met her, so he had been completely unprepared the moment she had presented him with a _very_ familiar face. So familiar, in fact, that it still regularly haunted Arthur’s nightmares.

‘Moe’, with his deceivingly innocent blue eyes and tousled black curls, looked to all the world like a human puppy that required fussing over, but to Arthur, he stood for death and betrayal, and the moment his gaze landed on him, he froze, forgetting to breathe.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked gently, his warm fingers curling around where Arthur’s own had clenched into a fist. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Arthur blinked and met Merlin’s worried gaze. A couple of their friends were also eyeing him curiously, he noted, but he could barely focus on them through the unadulterated panic clouding his mind.

“I-” Arthur tried, but he was unsure how to finish the sentence.

How to explain to Merlin that this boy, barely a teenager, had destroyed their lives over and over again, and would surely do so once more if they allowed him to? That they couldn’t _ever_ invite him into their lives again?

“I’ll get us something to drink,” Arthur said instead, and before Merlin could respond, he had gently shaken off his hand and made his way over to the bar.

There was, though, someone at his heels, and when he clutched the ale-sticky countertop for support, Lance was with him, one brotherly hand on his shoulder for support.

“Arthur, what is it?” he asked, in an undertone. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“It’s Moe,” Arthur breathed. “He’s Mordred.”

At that, Lance stilled, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Mordred?” He repeated. “From the legend? The one who killed King Arthur?”

“Yes,” Arthur confirmed. “And the same one who killed Merlin when I returned to life the second time.”

“Shit,” Lance breathed, one of his rare curses. He looked over his shoulder for a moment, back to where Mordred was sitting happily amongst their friends, before returning his gaze to Arthur. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur muttered, trying and failing to rule in the despair in his voice. “I wished I could just grab Merlin and run. I don’t want him anywhere near him. Not after what happened the last time.”

And at that, Arthur’s throat closed up, and he felt choked with the memories of their past life, overwhelmed by the memory of losing Merlin all over again.

***

Arthur knew something was wrong the moment he saw that the front door to Merlin’s apartment stood open.

He had been out for barely an hour, walking off his anger before returning to the safe haven Merlin had offered him in this strange modern world where everything felt wrong and only Merlin felt right. It had been that thought that had made Arthur pause in his stupor and consider what he was doing. Guilt had mingled with the fury, and before he had known it, he had turned back around, finding his way back to Merlin’s apartment.  

It had taken him a while. He hadn’t paid attention to the path he’d taken and had gotten lost, and when he'd finally arrived back at the apartment complex Merlin lived in, the tension in him had built into something unbearable, making him fumble with his new, delicate keys.

And then he had stormed up the stairs, and Merlin’s door had stood open, light streaming into the corridor, but no sound filtering through from the inside. And Arthur had paused, confused, because he had not been living with Merlin for long, but he _always_ made a point to close that door. In fact, he had given Arthur a long talk about privacy and the new age when he had first brought him to the building, reminding him that Merlin did _not_ , in fact, own the whole building and neither did Arthur and therefore they should keep their business within their own walls.

Which made it all the more suspicious that the door stood wide open like that.

Arthur approached slowly, carefully pushing the door open the rest of the way and peeking into the corridor of Merlin’s apartment. His heartbeat picked up at the sight he was met with, confirming his suspicions of something being very, very wrong. Merlin’s belongings were scattered all over the place, and Arthur almost stumbled over one of his shoes in his haste to make his way into the room, trying to locate his friend.

“Merlin?!” he called, but he was only met with silence. “Merlin! Damnit, answer me, you gigantic idiot!”

But it soon became clear that Merlin wasn’t present, and there had been some sort of fight. Furniture was turned over in the living room, Merlin’s bookshelf had crashed to the floor and spilt its belongings all over the place, and the device that showed what happened throughout the world in moving pictures lay broken in a corner.

Panic was pulling at Arthur, and he tried desperately to reign himself in, to find rational thought in the midst of the overwhelming fear that was crushing down on him. With trembling fingers, he reached for that other modern device Merlin had pressed upon him, the one that allowed people to communicate despite great distances. He pressed the Merlin button and held the thing to his ear, but almost immediately, there was an eruption of noise from near the upturned sofa. When Arthur went to investigate, he found Merlin’s abandoned device on the floor, flashing brightly with Arthur’s name.

With a yell of frustration, Arthur slammed his own device against the wall, where it broke. The noise stopped, and he was enveloped in silence again.

Unable to stand still, Arthur walked over to the window, looking out over the lake of Avalon. Dusk made it look almost golden in colour, the woods surrounding it shadowed and dark, and Arthur could barely make out a group of people moving at the shore where Merlin had first pulled him out of the lake. He would not have paid them any mind, too frenzied, too focused on finding Merlin, had they not chosen that moment to light a series of torches. They then proceeded to place the torches in a precise circle, and it illuminated the scene enough for Arthur to see that there was a figure slumped over _inside_ that circle, clearly unconscious, and three people hovering at its outside. The light caught on one of their faces, and Arthur felt like he was back at Camlann, and Merlin was up that hill and had just struck him with lightning.

And then, Arthur ran.

It took him way too long to reach the scene, and when he did, he found that the people around the circle had begun chanting in some kind of ceremony. Words of the Old Religion, Arthur thought. He had not thought that he would hear them again, not from anyone but Merlin.

“Stop!” he shouted, only part-relieved when the three chanting figures held in to stare at him.

Then, Morgana’s lip curled and she turned the crystal in her hand with apparent delight.

“Look who’s here,” she smiled, her voice bitter. “My dear brother.”

Arthur took a moment to gape at her, before letting his eyes wander over Morgause’s pinched expression, Mordred’s hateful stare, to where Merlin was sprawled in their midst, clearly knocked out. There was a bleeding wound on his forehead.

“How… What…” Arthur muttered, unsure where to begin, what to ask.

“How do I remember?” Morgana suggested, her voice bitter. “I didn’t. Not until recently. It was your return that set my memory off, Arthur. My dreams returned, only this time, it showed me what had happened in the past. And the more I saw, the angrier I became.”

“Morgana,” Arthur shook his head, taking a step towards her. “I know that you probably have a… grudge against Merlin, but I beg you-”

“‘ _A grudge_ ’?” Morgana repeated, incredulous. “Oh, too right. I have a grudge. Not only did Emrys kill me, but he proceeded to live for the past near one thousand five hundred years, all the time retaining his power, and what did he do with it?!”

“What do you mean?” Arthur demanded.

“Look around you, Arthur Pendragon,” Morgause spoke up, her eyes cold and filled with disapproval as she regarded Merlin’s still form. “The Old Religion has all but died out. He has done nothing to preserve our ways. His powers are wasted on him.”

“And you would have done better?” Arthur scoffed, slightly hysterical. “You’d have burned the world to the core with only a fraction of his powers!”

“What difference does it make?” Mordred demanded, throwing Arthur a sardonic smile. “If the world is ruled by people like you, it might as well burn.”

“I was dead for over a millennium!” Arthur pointed out. “You can’t blame all the modern world’s woes on me, you know!”

“But your spirit lives on, Once and Future King,” Morgause rolled her eyes. “Emrys made sure of that, and it’s time we put an end to it.”

“What in the devil’s name are you talking about?!” Arthur demanded, just the right mix of irritable and terrified that he was sure to do something foolish soon. “What are you trying to do to Merlin?!”

“It’s simple, really,” Morgana smiled. In the light of the flickering torches, she looked like she had just stepped out of Camelot. “We’re going to take his magic and share it among ourselves.”

Arthur stared at her, unable to breathe.

“Yes,” Mordred smiled, shifting the ceremonial dagger in his hand and approaching Merlin’s lifeless form. He then knelt next to him and grasped his elbow, holding the dagger above him threateningly. “And you’d better not intervene, because if you do, you’ll pay with his life.”

In his existence as King of Camelot, Arthur had lived through many moments in which he had felt small and impotent, unable to do anything to help a person he loved. But none of them compared to this moment in time when he had to stand there and watch the chanting begin again, watch as Merlin’s magic rose from his chest and floated through the air.

And then, he glanced sideways and found a hand lifting Excalibur from the lake water.

He did not hesitate. He was not even sure how he knew what to do. He just acted. He reached for Excalibur, his fingers closing around the familiar hilt of his sword, and held it up in the air.

And then, as if Merlin’s magic had waited for him to do it, as if Excalibur was a Siren call it could not resist, it fled the circle Morgana, Morgause and Mordred had created and flowed into the sword.

“No!” Morgause called. She was moving towards Arthur, obviously ready to fight him, but he swung Excalibur at her, defending himself and making his way over to Merlin’s side.

A small boulder was located not far from where the three of them had set up their little ceremony, and Arthur caught sight of it in passing, remembering the day he had pulled Excalibur from the stone, and how Merlin had encouraged him to do it.

Again, he acted on instinct. He pulled Merlin against him and moved them towards the boulder, where he lowered him to the ground again. When Mordred tried to follow them, dagger pointed at them, he brandished Excalibur at him, keeping him at bay. Then, he found Merlin’s lifeless hand and closed it around the hilt of Excalibur before directing the blade towards the stone.

It went in smoothly, as if cutting through soft fruit instead. The silver blade glowed golden, just for a moment. Arthur clenched his hands tightly around both Merlin’s lifeless hand and the hilt of Excalibur, holding on even as he felt the magic come to rest, sealing the crack in the stone over the metal, holding it in place.

“There,” he hissed, letting go, only keeping Merlin’s hand in his, cradling it protectively against his chest. He looked up at Morgana’s despaired, furious face with grim satisfaction. “Now you can’t ever get at his magic again. Only _he_ can.”

“You…” Morgana breathed, and her voice was trembling in wrath and hate, the way it had all those centuries ago. As if not a day had passed.

She did not get to continue, though, because then, there was an angry shout, and before Arthur could react, Mordred was charging forward, ceremonial dagger still in hand. Arthur threw up his arm, ready to defend himself, but Mordred’s body never collided with his. Instead, he fell to his knees in front of them, bending over Merlin, and Arthur shouted, moving to tackle him or throw himself over Merlin’s unconscious form protectively, but it was too late - Mordred had already run the dagger through Merlin’s chest, a wild, snarling look on his face, and Arthur felt the pain physically, as if he had received the blow instead.

“ _No!_ ,” he called, finally shoving Mordred away from Merlin to lean over him, helplessly watching the blood seep from the wound at an alarming speed. “No! Merlin!”

Merlin’s chest constricted as he tried to take a laboured breath, and then, his eyes flew open, unnaturally wide. In the background, Arthur could hear shouting - Morgause was yelling at Mordred, apparently displeased with his actions (“We cannot get to his magic with him dead, you stupid child!”) - but Arthur couldn’t focus, couldn’t look at them. His hands were trembling violently as he reached for Merlin, one hand pressing down on his wound, the other stroking the hair from his forehead.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, his voice barely audible.

“It’s okay, Merlin,” Arthur promised, though his own voice was shaking so badly that it belied his panic. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll take your weird talking device and we’ll call a physician and they’ll patch you right up. You’re not going to die.” With that, he took the hand from Merlin’s forehead to feel through his pockets, realising with some horror that Merlin did not have the device on him. “No,” he breathed. “Goddamnit.” He turned for Morgana, Morgause and Mordred, for a wild moment considering to ask _them_ for help, only to see they were hurrying away. “Hey!” Arthur called, helpless and furious. “Where do you think you’re going?! You can’t just-” But then Merlin was coughing violently, and Arthur returned his attention to him. Cursing, he slung his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, pulling him against his chest. He assessed the situation. Merlin’s shirt was already soaked with blood, meaning Mordred must have grazed a vital vein or organ. There was no time. “I need to get you to a physician,” Arthur breathed, desperate. “Merlin, tell me what to do. I don’t know this world.”

Merlin’s eyes opened and locked on his. One weak hand came to close around the one that was pressing down on his wound.

“It’s not… going to be… any use, Arthur,” Merlin brought out. “Not without my… magic.”

“Of course,” Arthur breathed, nodding. “Let me get you to Excalibur. Just let me-”

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, shaking his head. “I’m not strong enough to-”

“Shut up!” Arthur snapped, and there were tears blurring his vision. “You’re not allowed to leave me! Do you hear me?! That was not part of the deal!”

Merlin was silent for a moment, and he closed his eyes, and Arthur shook his head, holding him closer to his body.

“Merlin, no!” he begged, and his voice sounded close to a sob. “Open your bloody eyes.”

***

“Hey,” Lance shook him, effectively tearing him from his memories. Arthur met his eyes, noting that his expression was deeply troubled. “You’re really pale. You should just tell Merlin you’re not feeling well. He’ll take you home.”

“I can’t just-” Arthur protested, biting his lip. “Freya already thinks I’m some kind of psycho stalker who hates all of Merlin’s friends and gets his kicks of having him all to himself.”

“No one thinks that,” Lance frowned, looking disturbed at the suggestion.

“Yes, she does,” Arthur argued. “So if I grab Merlin and flee after one look at her baby cousin-”

“Is everything okay, Arthur?” Merlin interrupted him, coming up from behind him, clearly concerned. His eyes widened when he saw Arthur’s face, reaching out to touch his jaw. “What’s wrong?” he muttered, searching his eyes. “Did something happen?”

“He’s not feeling well,” Lance spoke up before Arthur could deny anything, catching Merlin’s eyes. “He didn’t want to say anything because he knows Freya isn’t his biggest fan and he thought she’d react poorly, but I really think you should take him home.”

When Merlin’s eyes returned to Arthur’s again a moment later, they were hard.

“Honestly?!” he demanded, exasperated. “You’re still minding what Freya thinks?! Fuck Freya, to be honest! If you’re not feeling well, we’re leaving! You just need to say the word!” Merlin leaned in to place a gentle kiss on Arthur’s forehead, completely at odds with his harsh words. “I’ll tell the others we’re leaving,” he whispered, pulling away to catch Arthur’s eyes. “You stay here.”

And with that, he left Arthur with Lance, who eyed his friend pointedly.

“There,” Lance said quietly. “That’s done.”

“Freya won’t like it,” Arthur murmured.

“So what,” Lance shrugged. “She’ll get over it. And her cousin will be gone by Monday, and with some luck, we won’t see him again.”

"Not with our luck," Arthur muttered. "We  _always_ see these people again. Also, I hate lying to Merlin."

Lance caught his eyes again at that last admission, smiling at him a little sadly.

"I know," he acknowledged. "Maybe you should consider telling him the truth?"

"Yeah," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Right. Because that won't prove Freya right."

"Will you forget Freya for a moment," Lance hissed, glancing back to make sure Merlin was still busy saying his goodbyes. "Merlin loves you. I'm sure he'll listen to you if you talk to him openly."

Before Arthur could answer to that, Merlin had already returned, slinging an arm around Arthur's waist.

"Alright, let's leave," he told Arthur. 

"Feel free to crash at ours today," Lance informed him casually. "I'll just stay over with Gwaine."

"Thanks, Lance," Merlin sent him a genuine smile. "I really appreciate it. And now," Merlin said, glancing at Arthur and raising an eyebrow. "We're going to put you in bed."

And if Arthur's stomach cramped up for real that night, it was out of guilt. He really _hated_ lying to Merlin. 

 


	5. Finding Shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers! I'm back with the last chapter of this story. It's rather a bit longer than the other chapters, but there would have been no reasonable way to cut it, so I left it as it is. I hope you like the way it turned out, and that you enjoy the climax of the story :D
> 
> Happy Easter, and happy reading!! Please drop me a comment to tell me what you think :D

Arthur knew, deep down, that it wasn’t right to hide the knowledge of the past they shared from Merlin as they grew closer and closer. He kept assuaging his guilt with reassurances that he had no choice on the matter - he told himself that Merlin would not believe him if he confessed to the truth and that he could not risk losing him now that he had finally found him. And it was true, at least in part - no matter how many times Merlin advised him to just ignore Freya’s nagging, deep down, he was more than just a little afraid that Merlin would simply up and leave one day, deciding that Arthur wasn’t worth all this bother. And really, could Arthur blame him, when Merlin had no idea what connected them, not the way Arthur did?

And now Arthur was lying to him, the same way Merlin had lied to him for years back in Camelot, and wasn’t that an irony in itself? That their position had reversed so completely?

Even though centuries had passed and he had died twice since then, Arthur could still remember clearly how he had felt when Merlin had revealed his magic to him. How the betrayal of it had stung much more than the fact itself because he had _trusted_ Merlin and why had Merlin not just _confided in him_?

And now, here he was, doing the exact same thing to Merlin. Only wasn’t what he was doing worse, because his head wasn’t even on the line, like Merlin’s had been back then?

Was that what it came down to? King Arthur being a terrible coward in the face of losing the person he loved?

No, that wasn’t it, he thought. Or at least, it wasn’t the whole truth. Because he had gathered the courage to tell him so many times, only to lose it again in the face of that carefree smile and those wide, innocent blue eyes, both making Merlin look so bloody _young._

It was that, Arthur realised, more than anything else, that stopped him from revealing their shared history to his partner. Because _this_ Merlin, who had had a chance to start all over again without the despair of his first life, without the cruelties of the past following him into this new era, _this_ stunningly beautiful, breathtaking boy was actually _happy_ . For once in his entire existence, Merlin did not have to live in fear. He was not being crushed by centuries of loneliness, or memories of loss and pain. He was simply _living_ , and who was Arthur to take that away from him?

Even if, like Lance, Merlin would never comprehend the full extent of everything they’ve been through together, even if he would never remember the way Arthur did, what right did Arthur have to put such a burden on his shoulders?

So the words died in his throat, over and over again, and he kept silent.

***

And then, they took a trip up to the lake for the weekend.

Their friends were the ones who had insisted on it. They’d wanted to get away together before everyone scattered for the Christmas holidays, and the seniors kept raving about a lake not far from Camelot Campus, best visited in the summer but not all bad for a get-away in the winter, too. The prices for the youth hostel were cheap at this time of the year (not that Arthur particularly cared about that part, but Merlin did), so they took the half-hour train ride north despite the cold, rainy weather that strongly defied any plans but to stay indoors. And Arthur might have made a quip or two about that, but he had done it to get a rise out of Merlin and to hear him call Arthur a prat in that fond tone that made the insult an endearment, so no one had taken him seriously.

But then, they had arrived at the lake, and Arthur had found himself face to face with the stage of his worst nightmares.

_The Lake of Avalon._

It felt bizarre, being dropped here once more after all these years, after dying, coming back to life and watching Merlin die, all in the same spot. Nothing seemed to have changed since the last time he had been here. The apartment complex Merlin had lived in, and which he had left to Arthur after his death, still stood at the lakeside, only someone else was obviously living where they’d once lived. Arthur could see children’s craft projects pinned to once bare windows as they passed.

From afar, he could see the shore where Merlin had died, and where Excalibur was most probably still spearing the boulder, imprisoning Merlin’s magic and his memories.

Arthur’s heart was beating so furiously, he felt like it was going to break out of his chest. He could feel Merlin’s eyes on him. He knew that he hadn’t said a word since they had arrived at the train station and caught sight of the lake, but he could not find his voice.

The youth hostel was not far off, only a little walk down the footpath into the forest - and Arthur actually remembered passing it on the night he had fought with Merlin, wasn’t _that_ messed up? - but they didn’t linger there for long. They only checked in to drop off their luggage before being called out once more by an excitable Gwaine, demanding that they’d venture back out to the lake.

Arthur wished he could excuse himself, but he knew he could not leave Merlin out there alone. And if he asked Merlin to stay with him, there’d be complaints from the others. Especially Freya.

Merlin was still watching him, and finally, he reached out to take Arthur’s hand.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Are you alright? You look pale.”

Arthur tried to smile and shake his head, but he knew it did not reach his eyes. He had always been a horrible liar, and Merlin had ever since had the peculiar talent to even see through his passable charades like they were the thinnest of fog.

“I’m fine,” he tried anyway. “Just a little tired. Didn’t sleep much last night.”

Merlin hummed, a frown on his face. He did not push, but he did not let go of his hand as they joined the others.

They took a walk along the shore, all of their friends in high spirits as they aggressively ignored the light drizzle take in as much of the nature surrounding them as possible. Arthur was only half listening, though. His eyes kept wandering. Like magnets, they were drawn to the crumbled Sidhe tower on the isle across the river, as well as the familiar apartment complex and the slightly secluded spot on the lakeside not far from it, where he knew Excalibur was bound to be.

When they drew closer and closer, Arthur grew uneasy. He wracked his brain for something to say, for some excuse that would make everyone turn around before they could catch sight of it. He couldn’t let Merlin get close to it. Not now. Not like this.

But before he could come up with anything, Gwaine spoke up, announcing: “Owain told me about this stone that’s supposed to hold King Arthur’s sword! I think it’s around here somewhere!”

“You don’t really believe that kind of nonsense, do you?” Freya snorted.

“Well, it can’t hurt to try and have a go at it, right?” Gwaine grinned, elbowing Percy. “What do you think?”

“Well, if anyone’s destined to pull it out of the stone, shouldn’t it be Arthur?” Percy chuckled, glancing back at him.

Arthur gave them a weak smile. _Oh, if only they knew._

“You’re going to try, right, Merlin?” Gwaine called, winking at Merlin. “Win your boyfriend his sword back, why don’t you?”

Merlin laughed, but he stopped when Arthur’s fingers closed around his wrist in a death grip. He frowned, glancing sideways at him, but Arthur did not meet his eyes. Neither did he relent his grip.

“Thanks,” Merlin replied finally. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Spoilsport,” Gwaine pouted, but he did not push the matter, much to Arthur’s relief.

Arthur did not let go of Merlin’s wrist for the rest of the day. Merlin kept shooting him worried glances, and Arthur knew that this time, he would not escape he questions once they were alone.

***

“Okay,” Merlin said, once he had closed the door behind himself and they were, at last, completely alone. “Are you going to tell me what this was about?”

“ _‘This’_ being?” Arthur asked, not looking at him. Instead, he shrugged out of his anorak and carefully hung it up to dry, just for something to do.

“Your whole behaviour today,” Merlin deadpanned. “I’m patient, Arthur, and I don’t like to pry, but if you’re going to suddenly turn all taciturn and then yank me around behind you, I need to know why.”

Arthur flinched, forcing himself to finally face Merlin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Merlin groaned, clearly frustrated. He crossed the distance between them, fisting Arthur’s sweatshirt to bring them chest to chest until their eyes met. “I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours,” Merlin declared, his voice much softer now. “You’re so far away sometimes, from one moment to another, and I want to know why. It feels like I’m missing something. I need you to trust me, Arthur. If what we have is going to work, you need to talk to me if something troubles you. I can’t read minds.”

Arthur gulped, closing his eyes. Merlin’s right hand came up to cup his jaw, his thumb gently stroking over his cheek and the stubble that had started surfacing there due to the late hour.

When Arthur’s eyelids fluttered open again, a little hesitantly, the expression in Merlin’s blue orbs was one of determination, and of stubbornness beyond compare. Something that hadn’t changed in the turn of centuries.

Arthur knew he had no choice but to give in. And more importantly, he was not sure he wanted to. He wanted _all_ of Merlin - his future, his present, and his past. And the latter, he would never have returned to him unless he stopped trying to protect him from it.

“You’re right,” Arthur breathed out, making Merlin lean closer to catch his words. “I haven’t been honest to you. There’s something I’ve been keeping from you. I kept making excuses - you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, you’re happier not knowing, and many more - but most probably, I was just afraid. I’m not going to be anymore.”

Merlin said nothing. He just stared at him, uncomprehending. Arthur reached out his hand to pry Merlin’s right one from his shirt and entwine their fingers instead.

“Come on,” Arthur whispered. “I need to show you something.”

“I thought we were going to talk,” Merlin muttered.

“We are,” Arthur promised. “But it’s easier if I just show you. You might not believe my words. You will believe your own memories.”

“My memories?” Merlin frowned, blinking as he followed him out of their room.

“Yes,” Arthur nodded. “Your memories.”

***

The walk back to the boulder that sheathed Excalibur was not a long one, thankfully. They had spent a good ten minutes watching their friends pulling fruitlessly at the sword earlier today while they had both stood back, Arthur’s grip around Merlin’s wrist like a vice.

Now, when they returned to the same spot, the clouds had retreated in part to reveal the dawning of the sun, reminding Arthur of the scenery of Merlin’s death. It made him shudder for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Arthur,” Merlin murmured. “Why are we here?”

Arthur sighed, at last turning to face Merlin. He was still clinging to his hand like it was a lifeline, though this time, he had no plans to restrain him.

“Draw the sword from the stone,” Arthur told him, squeezing his hand. “You will know once you do.”

Merlin furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes at him in clear scepticism.

“I thought we established earlier that the sword was a joke,” he reminded him. “Someone a couple of decades ago planted it to attract tourists. It’s got no meaning beyond that.”

“But it does,” Arthur shook his head. “It only needs the right person to pull it from the stone, is all.”

“If you’re going to tell me I’m the reincarnation of King Arthur -”

“You’re not,” Arthur interrupted him, cracking a smile despite himself. “It’s… complicated. You’ll understand once you touch the sword. Please? Just trust me.”

Merlin looked at him for a long moment. Arthur prayed to all deities that he was not going to run. But then, Merlin gulped and nodded.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll touch it. But then you’ll tell me why you’re acting like this.”

“Promise,” Arthur breathed, squeezing his hand once more before letting go and standing back.

Merlin frowned, as if he felt deprived at the sudden lack of contact. Then, he turned to the sword, glaring at it in an almost hostile way. He huffed before he crossed the distance to the boulder and extended his arm to the hilt of the sword.

The moment his fingers closed around it, a pulse went through the air, and Merlin stiffened. Golden light exploded from Excalibur, enveloping both it and Merlin. It was so bright that Arthur had to avert his eyes.

It only lasted for a few moments. When the light dimmed and Merlin appeared again, Excalibur was free of the stone and in Merlin’s hand. Merlin gaped at it with wide eyes, trembling so wildly that the blade shook from it. He then dropped it, taking a hasty step backwards and raising tear-filled eyes to Arthur’s.

“Arthur,” he choked.

Arthur was at his side so quickly that Merlin might have as well summoned him with his newly recovered magic. He cupped Merlin’s face with both hands.

“Hey,” he whispered, trying to soothe him. “It’s all right, Merlin. I’m here. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“I…” Merlin began, hardly able to get the words out, he was trembling so hard. “I died?”

“Yes,” Arthur confirmed, blinking against the sudden on storm of tears of his own that memory brought on. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

“No,” Merlin shook his head, his hands coming up to cover Arthur’s. “It was _them_ , Arthur. Not you.”

“Still,” Arthur argued. “If I hadn’t said all these things… if you hadn’t been so upset, they’d have never gotten through your defences. And then, here, at the lake… I couldn’t protect you.” Arthur took a shaky breath, resting his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes. A single tear escaped past his closed eyelids. “You were all I had left, Merlin. You were _everything_. And I couldn’t understand it. I was so worked up over everything I felt I had lost that I didn’t treasure you, even though you spent centuries waiting for me. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, and Arthur could hear tears in his voice, too. “Please, you’ve… you’ve more than made up for all of that. You found me in this life. You’ve returned my magic to me, and my memories. If it’s redemption you seek…”

Merlin let the words hang in the air, and it took a moment for Arthur to understand them.

“No!” Arthur called, so horrified that he pulled away to stare at him. “Redemption was _not_ my motivation for being with you, Merlin, you utter simpleton! I waited all these decades to see you again because I couldn’t bear to live my life without you!”

The noise Merlin made at those words was a choked sound, like an aborted sob, and he was blinking desperately against his tears as he murmured, his tone desperate: “I’m _not_ Gwen.”

“I _know_ ,” Arthur groaned, feeling utterly frustrated with him. “I’m trying to tell you that to me, you’re better, you clotpole! Though only God knows why, with how thick you are being!”

“That’s my word,” Merlin muttered, making Arthur snort.

“That’s what you focus on, out of all this?” he demanded. “You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”

“Give me a break, will you,” Merlin shot back, and Arthur was glad to note that some of his old fight was back in his voice. “You unload centuries of memories and decades of confessions on me in a matter of _minutes_ and I’m supposed to know what to say?!”

“How about you just shut up and let me do the talking then,” Arthur suggested, a smile spreading over his lips. Merlin opened his mouth to argue, but Arthur dove in to prevent him from speaking, catching his lips in a kiss so passionate that all their past kisses paled in comparison.

Arthur had convinced himself that he would be just fine, being the only one remembering their past lives together. That he wasn’t really missing out, because Merlin was still Merlin. But now that Merlin was gasping out needy little moans against his lips and clinging to his shoulders for dear life as their lips moved together, he realised that he had been lying to himself because _this_ \- this was _everything_. Until now, he had only been kissing Merlin Emrys, student of Camelot University. Now, he was kissing Merlin of Ealdor, former manservant to King Arthur of Camelot, and though technically, those two were the same person, the fact that Merlin now knew that made all the difference in the world.

When they pulled apart to gasp for air what might have been hours later, Merlin was staring at him in complete awe.

“Do you believe me now?” Arthur asked breathlessly, his fingers combing through Merlin’s dark hair.

Mutely, Merlin nodded. Arthur smiled, pulling gently at the short hairs at Merlin’s nape.

“Good,” Arthur breathed. “Else I would have had to find other ways to convince you of my love for you.”

“Oh,” Merlin murmured, his eyes sparkling. “I could use some more convincing, now that you mention it.”

Arthur grinned and leaned in again to brush their lips together once more.

***

They barely made it back to the youth hostel for all the interruptions. Arthur couldn’t seem to keep his hands off Merlin, and every time their eyes met, he halted to pull his other half into a kiss. It made Merlin grin against his lips after the first couple of times, and when Arthur pushed him against a tree not far from the youth hostel, he commented: “You’re much more aggressive now than you’ve ever been as Arthur Pendrall. I can’t deny that I like it, but it _is_ hilarious. The picture poor, innocent me had of you before today was _not_ that of the prattish prince I met over a millennium ago back in Camelot.”

“Yeah, well,” Arthur muttered, pressing his face into Merlin’s neck to hide his embarrassment. “I had to make sure you wouldn’t run, hadn’t I?” Merlin stilled then, and after a moment, he cuffed him over the back of his head. “Ouch!” Arthur complained, pulling away to glare at him. “What was that for?!”

“You really thought I would not like you for yourself?!” Merlin demanded, his eyes intense as he glowered right back. “Arthur, how long were we friends before you died? How long did I wait for you to return? Did you really think that there would be any lifetime in which I would not be absolutely mad about you?”

“But you had the prophecy to pull you towards me back then,” Arthur reminded him, unable to meet Merlin’s eyes. “No matter how much of a prat I was, you needed to stay because of the sodding prophecy. But this time, it was different. This time, you had to like me for _me_. And you have no idea how afraid I was to screw that up.”

“Arthur,” Merlin shook his head, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You really don’t understand, do you? I never stayed because of the prophecy. In fact, I told Kilgharrah he must have got the wrong prince at first because there was no way I was going to - nevermind,” he cut himself off hastily when he saw the pained expression on Arthur’s face. “Fact is, I never stayed because it was what fate demanded of me. I stayed because of _you._ Because I saw something in you, Arthur. Because I felt connected to you. And that never changed. Centuries I waited for your return because my life just wasn’t whole without you. And even when I didn’t know who you were, I felt that we belonged together. So don’t you ever think you need to change for me, Arthur. I only ever wanted you.”

And at that point, Arthur just had to pull Merlin into another kiss, because the other option would be to cry all over him, and that was not on.

When they finally made it back to their room, Arthur carelessly dropped Excalibur on the floor and wrestled with the zipper of Merlin’s jacket. The thing seemed to have a life of its own, though, evading Arthur’s fingers whenever it could and then getting stuck halfway down, making Arthur groan and pull the jacket over Merlin’s head in its half-opened state.

“Well, someone is eager,” Merlin commented, looking adorably ruffled as he resurfaced from the jacket.

“Don’t even start,” Arthur hissed. “Decades, Merlin. _Decades._ That’s how long I’ve been waiting.”

“I know a thing or two about waiting myself, in case you forgot,” Merlin raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling and his eyes were fond. “I still can’t fathom that you never…” he blinked, shaking himself. “I mean, I wouldn’t have minded. After all, you couldn’t know if or when I would return.”

“I couldn’t,” Arthur shook his head and leaned in to mouth at Merlin’s throat, making the other boy shudder. He spoke the next words against his ear. “Not when all I saw every time I closed my eyes was you. It would have been a lie, and I’d sworn to myself that I was never going to lie to myself about my feelings anymore after I lost you.”

Merlin’s arm tightened around him for a moment.

“But now there are no more lies,” Arthur continued, lightly biting into Merlin’s earlobe, making him gasp. “We laid everything bare.”

“Not everything,” Merlin protested, tugging at Arthur’s clothes. “Not yet.”

And Arthur couldn’t argue with that, so they got to work. They divested each other of their clothes in record time and fell into one of the two tiny beds, holding onto each other to not slip off the mattress as they clambered to get under the duvet. They had planned to push the beds together for the night, making a double bed out of them, but obviously, this was too much effort in the tension-laced atmosphere.

“Tell me,” Merlin asked, against Arthur’s lips, because Arthur had gone back to kissing him the moment the opportunity had arisen. “What do you want?”

“You,” Arthur said, without missing a beat.

“Don’t play coy with me again,” Merlin grumbled. “I thought we were past that. I don’t want the virgin-Arthur answer. I want the prat-prince answer.”

“We’re one and the same, you know,” Arthur snorted.

“Not quite,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “So, what’s it going to be? Don’t leave me hanging, Sire.”

The use of his old title sent a thrill through Arthur, one he did not think he would enjoy. He had always found it silly when Lance had used it. From Merlin, though, it was an entirely different matter.

Arthur leaned in and whispered, right into Merlin’s ear: “I want to be inside of you.”

Merlin hummed, and there was a pleased smile on his lips as he pushed Arthur onto his back and proceeded to straddle his hips.

“I think that can be arranged.”

As Arthur watched, Merlin’s eyes turned golden and then, a little bottle of lube came flying from Merlin’s backpack, along with a couple of condoms. Arthur groaned.

“Years and years without the magic,” he remarked, his voice rough. “And this is the first spell you use.”

“Technically, it wasn’t a spell,” Merlin grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “And what better way to celebrate the return of my magic than to unite myself physically with the Once And Future King? I’m sure all the seers of the Old Religion would have something to say about that.”

Arthur grimaced.

“Please don’t mention any of them while we’re in bed together,” he pleaded. “There’s a time and place for everything.”

“Fine,” Merlin laughed, leaning in to steal a kiss from him. “Why don’t you try to shut me up then?” he whispered into the kiss, pressing the lube into Arthur’s palm.

“Is that a challenge?” Arthur mumbled, barely intelligible around Merlin’s tongue in his mouth. Merlin just chuckled, and Arthur took that as assent.

Arthur fumbled with the lube, barely managing to coat the fingers of his right hand in the slippery substance (and spilling it all over the place while at it as he continued kissing Merlin. What was more, Merlin had aligned their straining erections and had begun rocking his hips so that their cocks would rub together with every movement, making it impossible for Arthur to coordinate any movement gracefully.

When his slick fingers finally found the crack between his arse cheeks, Merlin’s movements faltered for a moment, and he moaned against Arthur’s lips. Arthur then proceeded to stroke up and down until his fingertip caught on the wrinkled skin of Merlin’s hole. He drew gentle circles around it, delighting in the shudder he got from Merlin in reply. The other boy groaned, gently biting down on Arthur’s bottom lip and thrusting to rub their cocks together more pointedly.

Merlin’s noticeable impatience made Arthur feel surprisingly grounded, making him forget his own inexperience as he gently pushed in his finger to the first knuckle. Merlin was so incredibly tight and hot, and while Arthur’s prick throbbed with the prospect of getting inside of him, it seemed almost impossible to imagine that he would even fit. He’d never considered Merlin as fragile - back in Camelot, he might have made jokes about his defenselessness, but in reality, he’d always known how resistant Merlin was despite his lithe figure - but like this, probing in such an intimate place, he couldn’t help but fear that he’d hurt him.

He did not voice any of those concerns, though. Instead, he forced his movements to stay smooth and gentle and kept Merlin’s attention focused solely on him, their mouths never parting, and slowly, Merlin’s muscles relaxed around his finger, and he was able to go deeper, move with more ease.

At some point, Merlin pulled back from their kiss long enough to ask for a second finger, their eyes meeting long enough to send a shiver through Arthur at the dark lust in Merlin’s eyes. God, how he loved those eyes.

The second finger was an entirely new challenge, but it seemed that after the initial preparation, the rest seemed to follow at a quicker pace, like Merlin’s body was longing for the end result as much as Merlin himself obviously was.

“Bend your fingers a little,” Merlin muttered, pulling out of their kiss to mouth along Arthur’s jawline, and Arthur’s eyelids fluttered.

“Bend them?” Arthur repeated, continuing to thrust both fingers back into Merlin’s body before following Merlin’s orders and bending them as much as the tight space would allow. “Like th-”

But he could not even get the words out before Merlin’s body tensed against him and a choked breath was stuttered against his throat. Arthur, intrigued, continued probing the spot, and the effect was immediate: Merlin made a keening sort of noise, his fingers fisting Arthur’s hair desperately as his body trembled in pleasure.

“Please,” Merlin whispered, gently pulling at Arthur’s hair. “Please, Arthur. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?” Arthur checked, not halting in his movements. Merlin, though noticeably stretched compared to when they had started, still seemed impossibly tight, and Arthur would have expected the necessity of at least one more finger, but Merlin was already shaking his head and pulling back to catch Arthur’s gaze.

“I’m sure,” he replied fervently. “I need you, Arthur.”

And there was nothing Arthur could say in response to that. All he could do was pull Merlin into another kiss, trying to pour all the love and devotion he felt for this man into it. Merlin was smiling when they came up for air, so he was pretty sure he’d succeeded.

“Condom,” Merlin instructed, and Arthur nodded, carefully removing his fingers from Merlin.

Arthur fumbled with the condom, his fingers still slippery from the lube, so Merlin took the package from his hand and tore it. He then fisted the base of Arthur’s straining erection and proceeded to push the material down his shaft, until Arthur was completely enveloped and his breathing was laboured. Merlin then reached for the lube, coating Arthur’s sheathed prick in more slick liquid, and kept him fisted at the base as he raised himself up on his knees, aligning the tip with his entrance.

“Arthur,” he breathed. “Look at me.”

And Arthur did. His eyes locked onto Merlin’s, and he drank in every emotion flickering through them as Merlin slowly lowered himself onto Arthur. It felt otherworldly. Every nerve ending in his body felt like it was on fire, and his hands were shaking where he was clinging to Merlin’s hips, hanging on for dear life, as if nothing but him was real in the world and if he let go of him, everything would come to an end.

And part of that was true. Merlin was _everything_.

When Merlin bottomed out, fully seated against Arthur’s thighs, he let out something like a sob, blinking back moisture, and Arthur reached for him immediately, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso. Merlin pressed his cheek against Arthur’s, letting out uneven puffs of air against his ear, clinging to his shoulders almost painfully.

They stayed like that for a long time, not moving.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Merlin whispered after a while, still very shaken.

“Me neither,” Arthur admitted, squeezing his waist and pressing a lingering kiss to the spot just below his ear. “God, Merlin. I love you so much. You have no idea.”

Merlin gulped, shifting to rest his forehead against Arthur’s shoulder.

“Show me,” he pleaded. “Never let me forget again.”

Arthur nodded, a wordless promise, and then he consecutively made the decision that a change of position was in order. He rolled them over, earning a surprised huff from Merlin but losing their connection. He scrambled to extricate his limbs from Merlin’s and raise himself to his knees, reassessing the situation and prodding Merlin to satisfaction. Then, when he was comfortably settled between Merlin’s thighs, one hand burrowing in his messy dark hair as he propped himself up on one elbow and the other holding his prick steady, he sunk back into Merlin. They both groaned at the contact, and Merlin pulled Arthur back into a messy kiss, urging him to move.

It was far from smooth. Arthur had trouble finding a rhythm, and when Merlin moved against him to help, he kept slipping out of him, ruining their momentum. It would have frustrated and embarrassed Arthur to no end, but Merlin didn’t seem to even notice, therefore giving Arthur no opportunity to despair over his lack of expertise. Instead, Merlin had his hands everywhere, in Arthur’s hair, pulling him into countless of kisses, running over the muscles of his shoulders and back, making Arthur lose track of every thought but the man underneath him and how much closer he needed to get to him.

And eventually, he started to get the hang of it. Changed angles and a pillow propped underneath Merlin’s hips later, Arthur’s sorcerer had started to arch into him with each thrust, mumbling nonsense against Arthur’s lips.

“Oh,” Merlin breathed, fingers knotting in Arthur’s sweaty hair, meeting Arthur’s downwards movement with an upwards movement of his own. “ _Oh._ Arthur. I’m-”

Arthur got the hint, fumbling to dislodge the hand that had been clinging to Merlin’s hip and instead moving it between their bodies, wrapping it around his erection. Merlin made a keening sound as Arthur moved his fist along his shaft, no rhythm and probably too tight, but it was enough because only a few moments later, Merlin was tipping over the edge, his whole body tensing as he spilled all over Arthur’s fingers and his own stomach. Arthur kept touching him through his high, which seemed to take forever, and only Merlin started shaking his hand and wheezed out a weak: “Stop, _stop_ …”, did he let go of his prick and allow him to recover.

Merlin’s breathing was erratic and his eyes were closed, his skin flushed and his hair wild. He looked completely wrecked, and Arthur was so horribly close that it almost hurt.

Still, he asked: “Do you want me to pull out?”

Merlin’s eyes fluttered open and the expression in them as they found Arthur’s was almost dreamy. Much to Arthur’s relief, Merlin shook his head.

“No,” he murmured, running lazy fingers through Arthur’s hair. “Keep going.”

Arthur gulped and nodded. He caught Merlin’s lips in another kiss, softer this time, before he buried his face against his throat and started moving again.

This time, Merlin kept running encouraging up and down his back, whispering in his ear.

“Faster, Arthur… That’s it… Don’t hold back… Let go…”

And let go, Arthur did, until all he knew was Merlin around him, Merlin touching him, Merlin’s voice, Merlin’s scent… And when he reached his climax, it was so devastatingly overwhelming that he lost all sense of the world, of himself, until Merlin’s gentle caresses slowly brought some form of coherency back to him.

When he opened his eyes, he was resting on Merlin’s chest, still buried deep inside of him, and gentle fingers were running over his neck, soothing him.

“Wow,” Arthur muttered, too comfortable to move. “That was…”

“I know,” Merlin agreed, and Arthur could hear the smile in his voice.

“Why did no one knock me over the head back in Camelot and tell me this was how it’s supposed to feel like? We could have saved ourselves a lot of heartache. And Gwen and Lance, too, for that matter.”

Merlin only chuckled darkly and kissed the top of Arthur’s head. Arthur forced himself to shift so he could meet Merlin’s eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment.

“I’ll never let go of you again,” he vowed. “I’m done being stupid, I promise. Just never leave me again.”

Merlin’s expression softened as he rested his forehead against Arthur’s. For a while, they just breathed together.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered. “For putting you through this.”

“You should be,” Arthur muttered, but there was no heat in it.

Merlin hesitated, then he asked: “What happened? After I died?”

Arthur gulped. Merlin found Arthur’s hand to entwine their fingers in silent support.

“Gwaine stayed with me,” Arthur said. “At first, Lance and Gwen insisted I move in with them because they didn’t want me to have to return to your apartment, where everything would remind me of you… But it was all I had left of you, and I didn’t want to leave. So Gwaine moved in because they refused to just leave me alone. And it was probably good he did. I wasn’t… doing well, for a while.”

Merlin wrapped his other arm around his shoulder, just holding him. Arthur needed a moment to find his voice again.

“I think the others thought they owed it to you to take care of me? I mean, they barely knew me. You’d only just introduced me to them before you died, but they could tell how much I’d meant to you, and vice versa. So they made sure to drop in on me constantly or invite me out somewhere, and when Gwen gave birth, they kept asking me to babysit… Probably wanted to give me a task. But I just couldn’t find my place? I tried, but the world just felt empty without you. And I would do okay, even have fun for a while, and then I would turn around and look for you and you weren’t there. Gwaine kept saying I would get used to it, every time he found me in the middle of a breakdown, but I never did. Not till the day I died a second time. And even after I was reborn, I kept missing you.”

A tear had slipped past Merlin’s eyelids through Arthur’s monologue, and it ran down his cheek, leaving a wet trail on his pale skin.

“For what it’s worth,” Merlin whispered. “I know what that feels like. I spent more than a millennium missing you.”

“I don’t know how you survived it,” Arthur breathed.

“I knew I’d see you again,” Merlin smiled. “It was what I had to believe to pull myself through.”

“And you did,” Arthur smiled back. “We found each other. Even if it took much longer than it should have.”

“We’re two sides of the same coin, Arthur,” Merlin chuckled. “We’ll always find each other, eventually.”

“You’d better be right about that,” Arthur huffed. “I’m not spending my next life looking for you and then wooing you all over again. Do you hear me?”

“And they say romance is dead,” Merlin deadpanned, laughing when Arthur pushed himself up to cower above him, glaring.

“I’ll show you romance,” he groaned, catching Merlin’s wrists and pinning them to the pillow above Merlin’s head. He pointedly rolled his hips where they were still connected, eliciting a strangled moan from Merlin. With a satisfied smile, he leaned in to catch Merlin’s lips in another heated kiss, creating a steady rhythm to make Merlin gasp helplessly.

“Again?” Merlin demanded, flushed. “How long do you plan to keep this up? All night?!”

“All night?” Arthur repeated, humming and licking along the shell of Merlin’s ear, gently biting down on his earlobe. “Nah. For eternity.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Captain of Britain's Worst Football Team](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19741903) by [tizzyjukebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tizzyjukebox/pseuds/tizzyjukebox)




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